The Lost World
by curlycue2102
Summary: After retrieving the Black Pearl in a bottle, Jack is dead-set on restoring his ship to its rightful state. However, things are complicated by a new quest and a mermaid disguised as a woman. Jack/OC. Very slightly AU.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hello, everyone! I really have no explanation for this other than I love Pirates of the Caribbean, I love anything nautical, I love Jack Sparrow, and I especially loved the mermaids. This story is slightly AU in that Angelica doesn't exist. It's not that I didn't like her, it's just that my idea wouldn't really work with her in the picture.**

**Also, this plot may seem kind of trite, but this is my take on it.  
><strong>

**I hope you all enjoy this!  
><strong>

**Disclaimer: I own nothing except my OC.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter I<strong>

I knew as soon as I saw the ship that there wouldn't be another chance; that this opportunity would never present itself again. So I did what I had to: I swam. I abandoned my sisters. I tried to warn them that they were falling right into the trap, but the waters were too chaotic for any of them to listen. So, as they all swam _away_ from the fire, I swam towards it. Or under it, actually, would probably be more accurate.

With a heavy heart, I had to turn the other cheek and futilely try to ignore their dissonant shrieks of agony. Eventually, the hellish flames ceased and the water became placid once again.

This ship – this fateful ship. It was the first that my sisters had not been able to destroy. I knew that if I did not board it, I would regret the decision for the rest of my life. I would never know what other worlds lay beyond this cove, what wonders awaited me. My existence alone was enough to prove that magic _was _real – and thus I couldn't help but wonder: what else was out there?

I had never been like the others. Well, the majority of the others. There were some like me, some who detested our species. Perhaps it was not our species that we detested… No, it was our culture. We detested our culture. The bloodshed, the anguish, the horror that we brought – it was no wonder why the two-footers hated us.

But men were stupid. They knew what we were, and yet they still fell for our sparkling eyes and melodious voices. Their idiocy was their downfall, not us.

But I digress – back to the ship. _The Queen Anne's Revenge_, as the name on the stern indicated.

As I neared the surface, I heard the disconcerting sound of hushed voices – there were still men aboard. But there had been so many ashore – surely there would be but a couple? I could only hope.

I began to weave myself around a rope that was connected to something I believe to be called an anchor. The twine was coarse and uncomfortable beneath me and I became painfully aware that I would hit the night air unclothed. I finally broke the surface and hauled my tail out of the water. I waited several seconds, before it transformed into a pair of legs. Legs. Useless things, they were. I had tried walking on land a couple of times – I thought it was a skill that might come in handy someday – but I could never quite get the hang of it. I could just barely hobble.

Luckily, there was no one on the main deck; everyone seemed to be indoors. However, this didn't help me either, because I needed somewhere to hide. I crawled silently towards the door leading below-deck and listened. The remainder of the crew, it seemed, was down there. I climbed up another set of stairs to where a larger door lay. There didn't seem to be anyone inside this particular room.

I unsteadily raised myself into a standing position using the walls of the ship for support. Doors were tricky things, and I'd never opened one before. After a long matter of pushing and pulling and twisting and turning, I got the blasted thing open. I tumbled forward clumsily and landed hard on the unforgiving wooden floor.

My first order of business was to procure some manner of clothing. My eyes scanned the room frantically, before settling upon a trunk. Shuffling precariously over to it, I knelt beside the thing and thrust the top open. Inside, to my great luck, was a cache of musty and masculine garments. The fabrics looked and smelled far from appealing, but I hadn't any other options. So, I snatched up a yellowed chemise and hurriedly wrenched it over my head. I then attempted to weasel into a pair of ragged britches, but they were much too large for me. However, I knew enough to know that I couldn't very well go around pants-less, so I scoured the trunk in search of something to keep them up. Eventually, my hands stumbled upon a thick leather belt with a large, square brass buckle. I hitched the britches up high on my waist so that the hem wouldn't drag and secured the belt around the top.

Staring at myself in the mirror, I came to the conclusion that although my ensemble was less than desirable, it was better than being naked.

Now that this task had been completed, I took the time to survey the rest of the room. I quickly surmised that I was in the captain's quarters, given the vast array of maps and charts spread out upon a hulking wooden desk.

I knew enough about seafaring to know that the captain was an important man, but my knowledge didn't really spread beyond that. However I also knew that whoever had concocted the plan to (successfully) trap a mermaid and had the ability to shoot flames out of the front of his ship was not a man to be reckoned with. And so, I did not rifle through any more of his belongings and I swiftly put my brain to work by thinking of another place to hide. I certainly did not want to stay on this damned and evil ship, but I couldn't leave until we made port.

I paced back and forth on my wobbly legs a couple of times, trying to perfect the action. I hardly looked natural, but at least I wasn't crawling anymore. Plus, I'd always been a fast learner – I wasn't _too_ worried about physics of being human. I'd catch on eventually.

But onto another hiding place… I couldn't go below deck, and I really couldn't stay in the captain's quarters, either. I'd reached a bit of an impasse.

And then an idea came into my head: what if I could draw the sailors out from below deck? I'd create some sort of diversion to distract them, then slip away unnoticed. But how? My gaze settled upon a lamp hanging against the wall. Of course – a fire.

I gingerly treaded over to the lamp and lifted it off of its hinge. I then shuffled towards the door, consciously keeping the intended weapon a safe arm's-length away from my body. I hated fire. Absolutely hated it. But this was a necessity, so I swallowed my fear and moved forward.

When I'd reached the main deck, I took a deep breath of salty air and dropped the lamp from the small balcony. I hid in the shadows while the crew funneled raucously up from below almost immediately. As they were preoccupied with containing the blaze, I slunk down the stairs and began winding through various corridors and niches.

Once safe in the dark and dank nether-regions of the ship, I exhaled deeply in relief. I didn't quite remember how I'd gotten to where I was, but that hardly mattered – what mattered was that I would not be discovered.

I had no idea how long I would have to wait before the ship set sail again. For all I knew, it could be a matter of days. I shuddered involuntarily at the thought – I didn't know how I handle being confined in this dingy cavern for any longer than a few hours. I wasn't used to enclosed spaces – I was used to the open ocean; to say I was claustrophobic would have been an enormous understatement.

Now thoroughly filled with a pervading sense of dread, I tried to avert my mind to other thoughts. For example, what types of adventures lay in store for me? What interesting people would I meet? What would it be like to live as a human?

With these relatively pleasant and optimistic ideas in my head, I savored the gentle rocking and swaying of the ship. Now, anyone else might have found these wishy-washy movements and the sound of creaking wood upsetting (at least in a physical sense – I'd heard that many a sailor spent his first few weeks on a ship with his head hung over the side), but I was, after all, a creature of the sea. For me, there was nothing more comforting than this rhythmic motion; there wasn't anything I could do to stop my eyes from drifting shut at the sound of waves lapping against the hull of the ship.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: So just as a warning for later on, my OC might seem like a Mary-Sue, but that's because she's a mermaid! That's cannon, right? They're supposed to be incredibly beautiful... I hope no one objects to this. Personality wise, I'll try not to make her annoying. Anyway, please please please leave a review and let me know what you think/if I should continue. **

**Thanks for reading! :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who reviewed! You all are wonderful :) Hope everyone enjoys this next chapter!**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter II<strong>

Two days. Two. Bloody. Days. That's how long I was in that godforsaken crevice for. Mind you, the ship only _set sail _after two days; I still had to wait for it to make port.

Or, at least, I thought I did. As it turns out, something very strange happened on the second day. I believed – at the time, I did not know for sure – that the ship was taken over by someone other than the original captain. When the rest of the crew made it back aboard, there was an ungodly ruckus on deck and everyone sounded enthused. It was not ruckus in a negative sense – no, it seemed rather ecstatic, actually.

When we finally left the cove, the ship groaned and bent and jolted forward at an alarming speed. Like it was new – like it had been reborn. Its clumsy and abrupt movements reminded me of watching a downy baby seagull take its first flight.

This ship was different. I could feel it – it was alive. Well, they'd both been alive. The way the wood creaked when the water slammed against it sounded like the sound of breathing; the steady pitter-patter of rats' feet on the floorboards above was the sound of the blood running through its veins. It was extraordinary. And it seemed to know of my presence. It seemed to know that I, too, was different. The old ship had been tired, beaten down, and, most importantly, sentient; it'd had a mind of its own and intended to use it. Whenever there was a rustle of someone walking nearby, the shadows would shift, move, change, and morph ever so slightly, all in an effort to conceal me – to make sure that I was properly hidden. This may sound mad, but I assure you that there are things in this world infinitely madder than a ship taking pains to house a rogue mermaid.

But this new ship – this new captain – did not welcome me as the other one had. Perhaps it was the absence of the original captain that had allowed the initial version of the ship to protect me. I would never know. What I _did_ know was that this new ship was more ambitious; it wanted to please its new master. And that, apparently, meant exposing me.

One day, a grubby little man caught sight of me. We had fallen upon a particularly turbulent series of waves, and I was thrown forward, into the lamplight.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here!" he exclaimed in surprise. His stature was not particularly intimidating, but the fact that I had been discovered sent me into survival-mode.

I said nothing in reply, but gave him a panic-stricken look.

"What's the matter, girlie, cat got yer tongue?"

Still, I held my jaw firmly shut.

"Well, if yer not gonna talk to me, perhaps you'll talk to the cap'n!" With that, he roughly grabbed my snowy wrist and hauled me up the staircase, all the way to the helm of the ship. As soon as I came into the sunlight, I eyes were scalded. I hissed in pain and scrunched them closed. However, even in my temporary state of blindness, I could sense those around me staring. There were a handful of catcalls, but no one touched me.

"Cap'n Barbossa," the sailor started, "lookit what I found below deck! A stowaway."

The man who turned to me was terrifying. The skin on his face was disturbingly mottled, and his eyes and teeth were yellow with scurvy. He was thin, but you would never be able to tell given his attire, which consisted of a ridiculous, broad-rimmed, feathered hat. But the most intimidating part about him was the fact that he only had one leg; the other, from the knee down, had been replaced with a wooden peg.

"Well, Master Scrum, it appears ye are good for somethin' after all," he croaked. His voice vaguely reminded me of a parrot screeching. He then turned to me and asked, "What're ye doin' on me ship, lassie?"

I only glowered at him hatefully.

"I couldn' get 'er to talk, sir," Scrum piped in.

"Captain Barbossa," as he seemed to be called, quickly unsheathed his sword and pointed it to my neck. I tried to slide away, but Scrum grabbed me and pinned my arms behind my back, forcing me to face the captain.

"Now, now, it'd be such a shame to ruin that pretty face of yers," he said with false concern, stroking my cheek with one taloned hand. "My, my, ye _are _pretty, ain't ye?"

There was a glint in his eye that I didn't like. For a moment I feared that he knew what I was.

"Always did love meself a ginger," he prattled on mischievously, twirling a lock of my fiery hair around his appallingly sullied finger.

I hated to admit it, but he was right – my beauty was my only weapon; my only weapon on land, at least. I couldn't afford to be mutilated.

"What be yer name?" he asked.

This was tricky; I didn't really have a name, and I didn't know any human ones. I racked my brain, frantically trying to come up with some sort of female name that I'd heard sailors use before.

And then it came to me.

"Cassiopeia," I blurted out.

"Cassiopeia? Like the constellation?" he said in disbelief.

Whoops. Wrong type of name.

But it was too late to rectify my mistake; I nodded fiercely.

"Where did ye come from, Cassiopeia?"

"I – I hid below deck when this ship first made port."

"Did ye now? And where was that?"

"London, sir," Scrum answered helpfully.

"Was I askin' you?" Barbossa bellowed angrily. "No, I was not. I was asking our lovely Cassiopeia here."

"Sorry, sir," the sailor mumbled repentantly.

"Please, sir," I begged, "I meant no harm. I just wanted to get to the Americas, and this was the only way I would be able to. I have no money, you see, and no family to speak of."

"Darlin'," he laughed villainously, "you sure chose the _wrong_ ship. Throw 'er in the brig," he instructed Scrum.

Again, I was dragged away inelegantly; though this time I was being brought below deck instead of above it.

"Sorry, love," said Scrum, throwing me into a cell and locking me in.

Great. Again with the claustrophobia.

The "brig" was absolutely disgusting. There was filth everywhere, but I didn't want to even venture a guess as to what _exactly_ it was.

"Wait!" I called desperately.

Scrum looked at me and quirked an eyebrow, his expression holding a mixture of expectancy and impatience.

"What's going to happen to me?" I asked weakly.

"Couldn' say," he answered indifferently.

"You don't think he'll…"

"Nah, I don' think he'll kill ye. He's in a right good mood, he is. But ye didn' 'ear none o' this from me, got it?"

I nodded vigorously. Scrum, despite his unfortunate name, didn't seem too bad. Well, at least not as bad as he could have been.

He turned again to leave, but I quickly asked, "Could you tell me where we're headed, by chance?"

He grinned at me, revealing several rotten teeth. "Tortuga," he answered bluntly.

Tortuga? Didn't ring any bells. Although, my knowledge of geography _was_ very basic. I knew Europe, and I knew that in Europe there were Britain, France, Spain, Portugal, Italy, and Greece. I also knew that across the way lay the "Americas," and in the Americas lay the Caribbean, which was where we were. I also knew that across from us lay Africa and beyond that the Orient. This, however, was a complete account of my geographical awareness. As you can see, it was severely lacking.

However, I certainly couldn't afford to be picky about where we were going and where I could theoretically be dropped off. Wherever Tortuga was, it was better than here.

Later in the day, Scrum wander back down to the brig. He looked around shiftily, before approaching me.

"What are you doing?" I whispered quietly – worriedly.

He began to reach under his shirt and I backed away skittishly until I was pressed against the far wall of the cell.

"I ain't gonna hurt ye," he hissed, "I just came to bring ye some grub…" He held his hand through the bars, a bread-like substance displayed on his grimy palm.

I snatched it from him mistrustfully. As disgusting as it looked, I was starving – I hadn't eaten in ages. Like some sort of feral animal, I shoved the morsel in my mouth and finished it in nearly one bite.

"Thank you," I murmured when I'd finished chewing, "Why are you doing this?"

He shrugged and scratched the back of his neck in slight embarrassment. "Dunno, seemed like the right thing to do. Y'are quite thin, Miss, and we wouldn' want ye starvin' to death. Not 'fore the cap'n decides what 'e wants to do wit'ye, anyway." With that, he turned again and left the room.

Pretty soon, before it was time for the crew to turn in for the night, I was visited by hoards of men. They all stuck their arms through the bars and tried to reach me, but luckily I was far enough away to be out of their grasp. If only we were in the water; I'd teach them a lesson…

The prejudices of my species were becoming more justified by the minute, but I refused to believe that all humans were so vile.

Scrum. I just had to remind myself of him. _He_ was kind. _He _was different. There had to be others like him out there – there just _had _to be. Otherwise this whole thing would have been a waste – I would have spent days on this dark, damp ship without food or sunlight for nothing.

Another two days later, a rather timid looking cabin boy informed me that we had arrived in Tortuga.

"Captain Barbossa will be comin' down shortly," he announced, his eyes cast downwards. For some reason, he refused to look at me, which I found very bizarre. I wasn't accustomed to people _not _looking at me. It quite irked me, actually.

As if on cue, I heard the steady tap-tap of wood against wood, signaling Barbossa's descent down the staircase.

"Ahoy there, Miss Cassiopeia. As ye may well've noticed, we've just lain anchor in the glorious hellhole that is Tortuga," he growled jovially. He turned to the youngest member of the party and snapped, "Leave us, boy."

The cabin boy scampered away obediently, not wanting to incur Barbossa's wrath.

"What are you going to do with me?"

"That _is_ an excellent question, m'dear – one that I meself don't quite know the answer to just yet."

"Please, sir," I begged, "I haven't done anything wrong! I just wanted to come to the New World. _Please_, can't you just let me go?"

"Let ye go? Now where would be the fun in that, _mermaid_."

I looked at him in shock. He did know what I was, after all.

He let out a bark of laughter. "Ah, never underestimate the intelligence of ole Hector Barbossa, darlin'. I knew what ye were the moment I saw ye. T'ain't no coincidence that a young lady such as yourself just happened upon my ship right out o' Whitecap Bay."

"Are you going to kill me?" I asked gravely.

"Kill ye? Why would I kill ye? No, no, that would be such a waste..." he trailed off.

"If you want me for the Fountain, you might as well just – "

"I ain't interested in the Fountain," he interrupted.

"Then why…?"

"Perhaps I shall let ye go, after all – unleash you and see what havoc you'll wreak on this godforsaken island. I've just got meself a brand new ship, gotten revenge on the bastard who took me leg, and am now just about ready to drink meself into a rum-induced stupor. I think it's safe to say that I'm feelin' a bit on the generous side. I have to ask, though: why on _earth_ do ye want to be amongst humans? Why go through all o' this trouble?"

I cocked my head to the side, trying to tell whether or not he was sincere. I decided to answer him regardless: "I want to see what it's like," I told him simply.

He studied my face for a moment, but then his demeanor changed entirely. "Good enough for me!" he said, swinging open the door to my cell.

However, I still didn't move. I didn't trust him.

"Ye'd best be off, before I change me mind," he warned menacingly.

That was all the push I needed, however, and I darted out immediately. As I reached the top of the stairs, he called out, "Oh, and Miss Cassiopeia, I think you'll find that this brig is infinitely safer than the streets of Tortuga." He let out an ominous cackle, but I didn't stick around for any other pearls of knowledge.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: So there you have it! Good old Captain Jack will be appearing in the next chapter, don't you worry. I hope everyone thought Barbossa was in character... Even if he's not, I have to say that his lines were extremely fun to write...**

**Also, I am trying really really hard not to make Cassiopeia a Mary-Sue, so bear with me and if you think she's listing to that side, don't hesitate to call me out!**

**On another note, if you're enjoying this (or if you're not) pretty please leave a review? It'll only take a moment and it would mean the world to me! Even if you don't, thanks for reading! :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thanks so much to everyone who has reviewed! I hope you all enjoy this chapter :)**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter III<strong>

As I leapt from the ship, I couldn't help but see Barbossa's reasoning: Tortuga truly was a place of utter chaos. There were limp bodies littering the muddy roads, and it was difficult to tell whether or not the poor souls were even alive.

What struck me the most, however, was not the sheer number of drunken sailors – no, I had seen much of this sort of thing before. It was the abundance of women that shocked me. I had never actually seen one in person, but I'd heard many a story about them. These creatures were the subjects of many maritime ballads and yet they were unbelievably rare to encounter at sea – legendary, even. I'd spent much time wondering how it was that women and mermaids could look so similar (from the waist up, at least) and yet be so different.

Some of ladies (I fear this may not be the correct terminology) were beautiful in an illusionary sort of way, with painted faces and elaborate hairstyles, but others were rather grotesque. However, I was not so naïve as to not know that the prettier women were most definitely engaged in some sort of profession that was considered less-than-respectful.

I attempted to clumsily tiptoe around the filth in the streets with my exposed feet, but with limited success. Eventually, I gave up and decided that I would wash them later. That is, if I even could. I still didn't quite understand how the legs-tail transformation thing worked. I knew that I had to be submerged in water in order for my tail to return, but it seemed that the water also had to be of a certain depth. Alas, I was sure that I would have plenty of opportunities to test this theory. Sooner rather than later, I hoped, because I was utterly disgusting. Days in the brig hadn't been kind to me. My face was smeared with dirt and my hair was a proper rat's nest. Having spent nearly my entire life up to this point in the sea, I was unaccustomed to the feeling of being dirty. I'd now come to the firm conclusion that being clean was a much more pleasant sensation.

I'd only just escaped the boatyard when men started propositioning me (as they would do to nearly anyone of the female species, regardless of profession or appearance) outside the numerous taverns. At least, I thought they were taverns; in retrospect, they might have been brothels, in which case their requests were hardly surprising.

However, I simply ignored them and didn't come across too much trouble – most of the men were too drunk to be intimidating, which I was greatly thankful for. Alcohol truly was the stuff of miracles.

After about fifteen minutes of walking, however, my luck ran out.

A man began speaking (or, rather, slurring) to me in a predictable manner: " 'Ey there, love. Wotcha doin' walkin' around 'ere alone at night? T'ain't safe, 'specially not fer a gal like you – here, lemme walk ye home…"

"No thank you," I replied delicately without looking at him. I found that if I didn't make eye contact with them, they would give up.

But this man had more determination than the others. "If ye don' want to go home," he persisted, "why don' ye come wit' me…" He grabbed my arm. Not roughly, per say, but he'd still initiated physical contact and I was beginning to grow worried.

I snapped my eyes up to look at him, and I was surprised by what I saw. Instead of some old, fat man, my harasser was a young, fit one. He was dirty, to be sure, like everyone else on this godforsaken rock, but not as much of a mess as I'd anticipated. This only served to further unnerve me.

"Please, sir," I said politely, subtly trying to tug my arm out of his grasp, "I'm not what you think. I just want to get home, so if you'd kindly…"

"You ain't goin' nowhere, pet."

He grinned broadly as he pulled me against his chest. This was when my instincts were forced into gear; he began running his hands along my waist as I struggled against his grip.

"Stop!" I shouted angrily. I could feel my temper flaring dangerously. If he had any idea what I could do to him…

But he simply continued his lewd exploration of my figure. I felt very strange about the whole thing – I was upset, but I wasn't _fearful_, per say. The thought of my "virtue being compromised," as it were, was not something that particularly bothered me. I hadn't been raised with the chaste Puritan values that dominated human society – quite the contrary, in fact. I was taught to _seduce_ men (and then kill them, but that was secondary…). No, I was upset because I was helpless. I was used to people touching me, but I wasn't used to them overpowering me.

"Oi there, mate," said another voice, "I think the lady asked ye to stop."

I twisted my head to look upon my rescuer. He wasn't very impressive: middle-aged, with a potbelly and graying muttonchops.

"This ain't none o' your business, pops," said the sailor. He turned back to me and ignored the other man petulantly.

"Then perhaps I oughtta _make_ it me business," he said, drawing his sword.

"Are ye daft, old man?" growled the one still holding me. One hand released my hip and went to the hilt of his own sword

"Aye, and a daft man is never one to be trifled with."

Finally, the one holding me drew his sword. "I think I'll take me chances," he said with a smirk.

There was a clang of metal, and I jumped away with a start. I was about to take off running, but I was too mesmerized by the sight of the men fighting to do any such thing. Quite quickly, the older man, who was impossibly nimble for his appearance, had overpowered my assailant and had him cornered against an alleyway wall. The defeated party dropped his sword and held his hands up in surrender, and the victor struck him over the head with the end of is weapon, knocking him unconscious.

"Serves ye right, ye filthy cad…" he grumbled under his breath.

I turned to the muttonchopped man in surprise.

"Th-thank you," I stammered.

"No problem, lassie. But if ye don' want anything like that to be happenin' again, I suggest ye leave Tortuga. 'Tis no place for a lady, that's fer sure."

I nodded earnestly. "Will do," I insisted.

He grunted in acknowledgement, before turning and walking in the other direction.

I wanted to move, but my feet seemed rooted in place; I was utterly in shock as to what had happened. Yes, I'd been attacked, but I'd also been _defended_. And the man who helped me wanted absolutely nothing in return – he was content to simply walk off. He had risked his wellbeing for me when he had absolutely nothing to gain from it.

This notion took me a while to comprehend. _This _was why I'd left Whitecap Bay. To see people like this. To observe the truth of human nature. To see how different the world could be – I was now thoroughly glad not to be stuck with my narcissistic sisters anymore.

My mind was quickly flooded with questions: if he was such a good person, why was he here and not with his family? What was he even doing in Tortuga in the first place? How had he become such a skilled swordfighter?

I had known the man for only moments, and yet I couldn't stop thinking about him – about the way his brain worked.

That's when I decided: I should follow him.

I stole my unconscious attacker's cutlass and was greatly surprised by how heavy it was. I knew for a fact that it was a useless encumbrance to me at this point, but I thought perhaps that it might come in handy later; plus, it helped me look the part of a pirate.

And so I ran after him (or tried to, at least – my new legs didn't _quite_ cooperate at first), trying desperately to catch up. It was fairly easy to trail someone without being seen on the streets of Tortuga; there was so much going on that one would hardly notice a smallish young woman trailing them. I was innocuous and quiet – it was no fault of his that my presence in the shadows went unnoticed. The tricky part was actually spotting him again in the first place. But I did succeed, and I watched him stumble towards the docks.

After taking a long swig from his flask, he began to climb aboard the _Poseidon's Jewel_. I watched him from around the corner; the boatyard was much less populated than the main streets, and I didn't want to risk being seen. Once he was safely on the ship and out of sight, I crept towards it as well.

I saw the man go inside the captain's quarters – I hoped with all my heart that he was the captain. If he was, I might actually be in luck.

I took his disappearance as my cue to start climbing the ramp.

I quickly found that the ship was not nearly as magnificent as its name suggested. It was worn and decrepit, not to mention on the small side. Feeling a bit too adventurous for my own good, I wandered towards the captain's door and pressed my ear to it.

"Redford is out of the way, Cap'n," I heard the muffled voice of my savior say, "I told Scarlett and Giselle to make damn sure that he don' try to come out here til tomorrow morn."

"And the crew?" I heard someone else ask.

"Same can be said for them. None o' them will be comin' out here til tomorrow."

"And what of _our _crew?"

"I went into the Faithful Bride and created a sign-up sheet – said Cap'n Jack Sparrow be lookin' for a crew and sailin' for treasure."

"Well, at least it is indeed _I _who is putting a crew together this time around," she heard the man, evidently Captain Jack Sparrow comment dryly.

The other let out a hearty laugh and continued, "People should start arrivin' within the hour, judgin' by the enthusiasm I saw and the amount of rum that was goin' 'round."

"Excellent, Mr. Gibbs," the captain said energetically. "I want at least eight men in the next four hours. Then, we shall set sail."

"A reasonable goal, to be certain – it shouldn't take nearly that long for ye to reach such a meager quota. But Cap'n, this is all right and good, but just _where_ exactly are we setting sail to?"

"To see an old friend," the other answered vaguely. "Now!" he continued brusquely after an awkward pause, "We ought to get out there for when the men start arriving."

At the sound of this, I scrambled backwards, away from the door. But it was too late: I had been caught.

I soon came face-to-face with the man who had saved me – Gibbs – and the other man, Jack Sparrow.

Sparrow was the single most aesthetically fascinating person I had ever seen. He was not a large man, about of average height and build, but I could tell by his flamboyant sense of style that his personality more than made up for his stature. His coarse, dreadlocked, black hair seemed to be a working catalog of his adventures, with whalebone, beads, and other trinkets woven into it. He had dark smudges of kohl around his eyes, and on his hands and wrists he wore gaudy rings and bands of fabric. Peeking out from his sleeve, I could see a tattoo of a bird on his forearm.

Gibbs looked only mildly surprised to see me, while Sparrow scrutinized my appearance with great curiosity.

"You again," Gibbs commented warily.

"… You again?" Sparrow repeated.

"Aye, I've seen 'er before."

"Do tell."

"I just saved the lass but a few minutes ago. She must've followed me 'ere."

"Saved her? As in this young damsel was in distress and you so valiantly decided to come to her aid?"

"I s'pose you could put it that way, aye."

He cocked his head to the side, the adornments in his hair jingling, and said, "Well, that is very interesting, Mr. Gibbs. Never took you for a knight in shining armor."

"T'was but a moment of weakness, Cap'n. I can assure ye that it won't be happenin' again."

"Well then, Miss Damsel, why have you come here?" Sparrow asked me.

Thinking quickly, I lied, "I've come to enlist in your crew."

Sparrow looked pensive, but Gibbs retorted, "I've said it before and I'll say it again: it be bad luck to have a woman aboard."

"What's your name, girl," Sparrow barked at me, narrowing his eyes.

I hesitated. Barbossa had seen through my name straight away, so I needed to fix it. "Cassie," I replied.

"Cassie," Sparrow repeated, testing the name out with his tongue, "That's an odd name. What's it short for?" he asked, tilting his chin upwards and looking down at me suspiciously.

I chewed my lip tentatively. "Cassiopeia," I answered, "my parents were fond of astronomy."

"Hm. I would have guessed Cassandra, but close enough. Both Greek, I imagine," he remarked distractedly, "In any case," he continued, "why should I allow you to stay aboard me ship, _Cassie_?"

"I-I'm a hard worker. I will pull my share of the weight. And I know the sea; my father was a sailor. I grew up around ships and I'm not afraid of the water in the least." All of this was, of course, a lie – minus the fact that I knew the sea. That, I could say with utter confidence, was a bit of an understatement.

"Can ye defend yourself? If you needed ole Mr. Gibbs to protect you, I'd say you're in a sorry state of vulnerability."

"I was only taken by surprise. If I'd seen him coming, I would have been able to protect myself. I'm hardly some fair maiden," I said. And looks-wise, it was quite true.

"And why do you _want _to stay aboard?"

"I've nothing better to do," I reasoned thoughtfully, "No family, no money. I thought I might have myself a little adventure. And I heard what Mr. Gibbs was saying at the Faithful Bride regarding treasure…"

Sparrow turned exaggeratedly to his friend; "What do you think, Gibbs? Should we let 'er stay?"

"You already know me answer," he grumbled, "And _I_ already know yours."

The captain grinned at him winningly, his smile flashing several golden teeth. "Good man," he replied, clapping him on the shoulder.

"Never could say no to a woman, could ye, Sparrow," Gibbs muttered darkly.

The captain beamed slyly once again, before turning back to me and saying, "Welcome aboard the _Poseidon's Jewel_, love." With that, he sauntered away and down the stairs to the main deck.

"You'll be swabin' the deck and pullin' the sails, same as the rest o' the crew. It don' make no difference that ye be a woman – ye surely won't be receivin' special treatment. If yer a burden," Gibbs continued in insistently, "we're droppin' ye off on the first spit o' land we come across, populated or no. Understood?"

I nodded again slowly, surprised by my own success. At the time, I'd had no idea just what exactly I'd gotten myself into.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: If you leave a review I will love you forever! :D**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Hello, everyone! Thanks so much to those of you who reviewed the last chapter, it really makes my day to read feedback! Also, I was glad to see that a couple of you liked that Gibbs was the one to save Cass - I know that it would have been totally cliche for Jack to save her, so I wanted to mix things up a bit. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy chapter four!**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter IV<strong>

As I followed Gibbs and Sparrow down to the main deck, the elder man narrowed his eyes and commented, "What's wrong with yer leg, lassie?"

"I – I twisted my ankle earlier today," I stuttered nervously. "I should be fine by tomorrow, though – I'm feeling better already," I assured them with a fake smile.

"Better not be a liability," Gibbs said darkly.

Sparrow simply looked squarely at my legs, his face betraying no emotion whatsoever. He then turned away and looked down at the dock below.

His mannerisms were so unusual that I couldn't help but wonder whether he was mad, drunk, or both. Whatever the case, it was apparent that he was well known, at least in the pirating world. I looked forward to learning more about him, as he was currently proving to be a very difficult man to read. Usually I was a pretty good judge of character, but Sparrow had a wall up around him so thick that I didn't think I'd ever be able to see what lay on the other side.

Soon, just like Gibbs had predicted, others started arriving. The first to show up (after me, of course) was a man who appeared to be about Sparrow's age – although, that wasn't saying much, seeing as it was almost impossible to gauge how old either of them were. Fairly young, was the only guess I could wager.

"Is this the _Poseidon's Jewel_?" he asked timidly upon ascending the ladder. His behavior suggested that he was younger than I'd previously thought – probably in his mid twenties or so.

"Aye, 'tis," Gibbs answered.

"I've come to join Captain Jack Sparrow's crew," he announced somewhat more confidently, his eyes darting from me, to Gibbs, to Sparrow.

"What do you call yourself, mate?" Sparrow demanded.

"Peter Wentworth, sir," he answered, removing his hat and bowing his head.

"Know how to use a sword?" the captain asked.

"Aye, sir. Quite well, in fact. Used to be a naval officer."

"Welcome aboard the _Poseidon's Jewel_, then," he said, sticking out his unsanitary-looking hand. The other man shook it enthusiastically, before walking towards me.

"Are you part of the crew as well?" he asked in bewilderment.

"Yes, I am," I replied, raising my head haughtily. I was only mildly offended by his confusion, but I wanted to make him feel guilty for slighting me.

He seemed to catch on to my displeasure, and rectified, "I'm sorry – I didn't mean anything – it's just, it's very rare to see a woman aboard a ship, you see."

I softened my gaze and responded, "It's all right, you are forgiven. But don't underestimate me, my friend. I'm tougher than I look." _If only he could appreciate the truth in my statement,_ I thought wryly.

Just then, two other people arrived: a dwarf and an aged man with a parrot on his shoulder.

"Well damn me eyes – if it ain't Cotton and Marty – and Cotton's parrot!" Gibbs exclaimed.

"Aye, mate, it's us," the dwarf replied with a grin.

"Come to join me motley crew once again?" Sparrow commented cheerily, waving his hands about in a very strange fashion.

"Yessir. 'Eard there were treasure to be found," the dwarf, presumably Marty, answered again fondly.

"Well, in fact, you have heard correctly," he replied with a golden-flecked grin.

"And who're these two?" he remarked, "New additions, I presume."

"Indeed they are. Say hello to our dreadfully ferocious swordsman, formally a member of the King's Navy, Peter Wentworth, and the vicious red-haired tempest that is Cassiopeia," he introduced with absurd solemnity.

"Tempest?" Marty began with a lewd smirk, "I think you mean 'temptress'."

Sparrow laughed, but turned to Peter and me and said, "Oi, you two. This here's Marty and Mr. Cotton. Don't bother trying to talk to Cotton, 'e's a mute. Had 'is tongue cut out."

Peter winced at this, but I just stared at him curiously. I wondered _why_ he'd had his tongue cut out… He looked pretty unassuming...

About ten minutes later, another two men arrived up with ladder. "This be the crew o' Cap'n Jack Sparrow?" one asked abruptly.

"It is indeed, my good man. Who be you pair?" he asked.

"Name's Schmitty," said one. He had thick black hair peeking out from his tricorn hat and looked as if he hadn't shaved in weeks. He was clearly drunk and smelled absolutely dreadful, even from where I was standing.

"Schmitty?" Sparrow repeated abruptly. "Right then, Schmitty, welcome aboard me ship. And you?"

"Em'ry, sir," slurred the other, who appeared to be equally intoxicated. He was shorter and stouter than his companion, with sandy-blonde hair and a sanguine complexion.

"Wonderful. Only two more to go, Gibbs!" the captain said excitedly.

I couldn't believe Sparrow's luck; about a half hour later, two more tall, lanky boys – identical twins, evidently – began to climb up the ladder.

"We've come to join your crew, Captain Sparrow," one announced enthusiastically immediately upon hitting the deck. They both appeared to be in their late teens, with curly mops of brown hair atop their heads.

"Names?"

"Tim and Tom Spritely, sir," said the other.

"Well," he paused for a moment, trying to think of the best way to address them, "Spritelies," he finished finally, "do you have the courage and fortitude to follow orders and stay true even in the face of danger and almost certain death?" he blurted out quickly. At this, Gibbs grinned nostalgically.

The boys blinked slowly, struggling to comprehend what he had asked them. "Aye, sir…?" they both eventually answered in tentative unison.

"Excellent!"

"When do we set sail, Captain," Wentworth piped in.

He stroked his goatee thoughtfully, before replying, "I'd say now's as good a time as any... Men! … And woman – All hands on deck! Get to your places, ye filthy dogs!"

"Wind in your sails, wind in your sails!" Cotton's parrot harped.

Everyone began scrambling about immediately, and I came to the quick conclusion that I ought to be doing something, too. The only problem was, I had no idea how to work on a ship.

Now, it had struck me earlier that this might eventually be a problem, but I hadn't really paid much attention to it – I'd been too swept up in the events of the evening to give my circumstances much thought.

Gibbs seemed to sense my uncertainty, and looked at me with begrudging sympathy. "You'd best start swabin' the deck," he instructed. I could tell that the poor man was struggling with his instincts and his logic – he didn't exactly _want_ do help me, but he felt obligated to by some subconscious paternal aspect of his personality. It was quite interesting to watch the two conflicting instincts war with one another.

However, while I was hesitant, Emery and Schmitty were faring even worse: they could hardly walk straight, and pulling the lines seemed to be a task much to monumental for them to tackle.

The Spritelies, on the other hand, were putting everyone to shame with their youthful eagerness and it made me suspect that they might have been even younger than they appeared.

Cotton and Marty, on the other hand, did as they were told at a leisurely pace, like the old seadogs they were. Sparrow, meanwhile, took his place at the helm, compass in hand. Several minutes after leaving the harbor, Marty approached him.

"Cap'n, I didn' want to ask you this in front o' everyone, but knowing yous I expect that we are not sailin' directly to the treasure, am I right?" he asked.

"You are correct in presuming that there are obstacles which we must overcome before we reach said treasure, yes."

"So just where're we going, exactly?"

"Our quest requires us to pay an old friend of mine a brief albeit extremely necessary visit."

"An old friend o' yours? The only 'old friends' you've got are dead-set on killin' you."

Sparrow grinned at him, "And I wouldn't have it any other way."

"This friend don't happen to be Tia Dalma, do it?"

"No, 'fraid not. Don't expect we'll be seeing her anytime soon, after the whole Davy Jones incident..."

"And is this friend of yours, well, friendly?"

"Yes, of course! Well, most times, at least," he paused contemplatively for a moment, "Sometimes. Usually."

Marty gave him a knowing look, but went back to work instead of pressing the matter.

"Cap'n," Gibbs started cautiously after witnessing this exchange, "is our destination a 'moving target,' as it were?"

"Isn't it always, Mr. Gibbs?" he replied ambiguously.

"If we're indeed goin' where I think we're goin', I don' think we're to be received kindly…"

"My good fellow, surely you've learned by now that things are hardly ever what you think. 'Specially when it comes to me. And I appreciate your concern, but just leave it in my entirely capable hands. When have I ever failed you?"

Gibbs opened his mouth to speak, but Sparrow interrupted, "On second thought, don't answer that. But the point is, everything is going to be right as rain, don't you fret."

However, this response only seemed to further worry Mr. Gibbs, who shakily took out his flask and pressed the mouth to his chapped lips.

"I would rather like to know where we're goin'," he grumbled.

"Rest assuredly, I'd tell you if I knew."

"Ye do know! _You're _the one leadin' us, ye daft fool."

"Technically, the compass is leading us…"

"And _you're_ leading the compass."

"Touché," Sparrow allowed with a smirk, "But it's really just sort of a chicken and the egg thing, innit mate?"

Suddenly, Wentworth broke me out of my fascinated trance. He'd been working by my side, and turned to me and whispered, "You shouldn't be eavesdropping; if they catch you, they could give you the captain's daughter..."

I hadn't the slightest idea to what he was referring. "The captain has a daughter?" I asked stupidly.

He seemed to understand my dilemma and clarified, "No, what I mean is the cat o' nine tails. You know what that is, right? It's a whip."

I looked at him in shock; "I don't think they would do that…?" I murmured, wide-eyed.

"Y'never know. I've heard pirates are a bit more lax, but, if we were on a ship o' the Fleet, they wouldn't even think twice."

"I'll keep that in mind," I assured him fearfully.

A few hours later, we arrived off the coast of a miniscule island and dropped anchor.

"Now, you've all got an hour to rest," Sparrow announced, "I realize that we've sailed through the night and you're probably all… fatigued. 'Specially you two disgraces," he said to Emery and Schmitty, "try to sleep off that drunken stupor. Now, if any of you pitiful cads needs me, I'll be in me captain's quarters." With that, he disappeared into the cabin below the helm.

I was in fact tired beyond belief, and was therefore extremely thankful for the opportunity to rest. I also really needed to get out of the beating sun (which had only just risen – I would have a lot more this to look forward to, it seemed), so I climbed below deck and planted myself in one of the several canvas hammocks situated there.

Before I drifted into a deep, much-needed sleep, my head swam with thoughts of what awaited us on this "moving target" we were trying to reach. Why were we going there? Who were we going to see? Would we run into danger on the way? I had the nagging suspicion that we weren't even sailing for treasure at all, in which case I feared for how the rest of the crew might respond. I didn't particularly care where we were going, I was just happy to be a part of it. However, I doubted the others felt the same way.

What was infinitely clear, though, was that I was most definitely an outsider in this new world of piracy. Why Captain Sparrow had allowed me to stay remained a mystery, along with almost everything else about him. However, I'd come to this world to unravel the mysteries of human nature, and I could assure you that he was indeed one mystery I intended to solve.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Hope you all liked it! And I hope everyone's in character... Please review! :)**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Hiya everyone! Thanks so much to all those who reviewed the last chapter! I hope you find this one entertaining :)**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter V<strong>

"Get up!" was the unwelcome order I awoke to. Either Tim or Tom (I had no idea which was which) had come downstairs and forcefully roused me from my pleasant and much-needed slumber.

"What's wrong?" I inquired drowsily.

"We're under attack! Make haste! All hands on deck!" he called spastically, rushing back up the ladder.

I quickly composed myself and ran up as well, only half believing him. This was certainly something that I needed to see for myself.

Sure enough, however, another ship had settled itself beside us and the crew as preparing to board the _Poseidon's Jewel_.

"Load the guns!" I heard the captain yell urgently.

"Who's attacking us?" I called above the din. The opposing ship clearly didn't belong to the Navy, so I suspected that it was another pirate's.

"That be Red-faced Redford's Jolly Roger flying true enough," Marty answered ominously, "But I don't believe that to be 'is ship." I squinted make out the flag, only to see the image of two white skull and crossbones against a red background.

"Red-faced Redford?"

"Aye."

That name sounded awfully familiar… But where had I heard it?

And then I remembered – that was the name of the man that Sparrow had asked Gibbs about. Suddenly everything made sense – Sparrow had stolen his ship, and he was here to retrieve it. That explained why they weren't firing their cannons at us, at least.

"Sparrow, this is your doing!" I shouted at him.

I don't know what had come over me. Perhaps I truly had been angry. It wasn't that I had been ethically opposed to his actions – no, it wasn't that. It was that I didn't want to unnecessarily have my life endangered. Hell, I didn't want to die – and I wasn't about to, if I could help it. As far as I could see, Sparrow had put all of us in peril by not keeping us informed. And there wasn't anything I hated more than someone treating my life carelessly; I wasn't some disposable toy to be used and then discarded of. Perhaps it was a weakness of moral character, but it was certainly something that would make me a good pirate: I was quick to desert at the first signs of trouble. Sure, perhaps I was flighty and I certainly couldn't be considered loyal, but I was good at surviving.

"Beg pardon?" he said incredulously. He had been casually walking along the side of the ship, cutting the ropes that Redford's crew had thrown over.

His surprise was understandable – I'd hardly said two words to him before this moment, and now, all of a sudden, I was behaving defiantly.

"The _Poseidon's Jewel_ is Redford's ship, isn't it?" I elaborated.

This got the rest of the crew's attention, save Gibbs, Cotton, and Marty, who seemed to have anticipated this type of behavior.

"Love," he started exasperatedly, "If ye were looking to sail under honorable colors, you've certainly come to the absolute worst place possible. We're _pirates, _m'dear_. _Buccaneers. Marauders. Scoundrels. Scum of the sea, what have you. I've run out of synonyms, but that's beside the point. You should hardly be astonished."

"Now, to those of you who _haven't_ been swayed by Miss Cassiopeia's little morally-charged outburst – which I should hope would be all of you – listen up," he continued, "Redford is not very well going to fire on his own ship, savvy? And whoever it is so graciously lending him _their _ship is certainly not going to want it to get destroyed. All we have to do is defend ourselves and we'll be free to continue onwards to the treasure, aye?"

"How do you know someone's lent him their ship," I countered snippily.

"Because if he stole that one, why would he bother trying to retrieve this one?" he answered with a bored look. "Now what say you, ye scallywags? Still got a taste for gold?"

Everyone loudly confirmed that they were ready to fight; all apart from me, that is.

"Smashing. Now fire all!"

Then, the first thunder of cannons rang out, followed by several other crashing roars. I watched in amazement as we blew gaping holes in the hull of the other ship, causing the wood to splinter in sickening cracks.

However, the battle was not to be one so easily. Sparrow had taken his place back at the helm, which meant that Redford's men had snuck the opportunity to start swinging from their ship to ours.

When the first man hit the deck, Wentworth was right there to bravely fight him off.

Out of fear, I unsheathed my cutlass. More and more people (by more and more I really only mean around three more) flew over the railing of the ship.

The Spritelies worked together nimbly and knocked one of our opponents overboard, while Marty was engaged in a sword fight and Emery clumsily battled the third man. So far, I had been left alone.

However, a man wearing a bandana soon confronted me. My first instinct was to run, but I knew that this was not a viable option – I had to at least _try_ to fight. Otherwise, my uselessness would be revealed and I might be expelled from the ship – or worse, marooned. Although, at the time it hadn't occurred to me that I would easily be able to swim off of the island. Alas, my mind had been made up: fight it was.

We entered combat, and I gauchely deflected his blows. I had a few very close encounters, and about thirty seconds in I was quite sure that he nicked my shoulder. However, by some miracle (in fact, I think Schmitty may have inadvertently tripped him) my adversary fell to the ground and his sword fell out of his grasp. Without hesitation, I drove my own cutlass into the man's gut. I watched, transfixed, as beautiful crimson blood poured from his wound.

Wentworth, who had just finished defeating his own challenger, turned to me in wonder and remarked, "You weren't lying when you said you were tougher than you looked."

I did not respond – was I not supposed to have killed him? But I didn't have the luxury of dwelling on these thoughts, for I barely had time to dodge an attack from another foe. I spun out of the way inelegantly and somehow managed to push him overboard, into the angry sea. I looked up at the helm to see Sparrow lazily fighting off opponent after opponent; at one point I even think I saw him bring his hand up to cover a yawn. I also noticed something very interesting: he didn't kill anyone. Well, not directly, at least. He somehow found a way to throw all of his assailants over the side of the ship.

Eventually, when we had caused enough damage to Redford's ship (Redford's friend's ship?), men stopped invading the _Jewel _and it became clear that we had won the battle.

"Victory is ours!" Gibbs announced triumphantly.

The rest of the crew raised their swords in the air and cheered boisterously. All save one of the Spritelies, who appeared to have lost a finger. I initially pitied the awkward lad, but the sentiment passed quickly. Plus, perhaps it was for the best: now, we would all have a way of telling the twins apart.

"Throw the dead into the water," Sparrow commanded solemnly. He seemed very bothered by the sight of the carnage, and I couldn't help but wonder why – surely he'd seen death before – surely he was used to it by now?

"And the wounded?" an extremely out-of-breath Emery questioned.

Gibbs and Sparrow looked at one another and seemed to reach an unfortunate understanding. "Overboard," Gibbs barked sadly, "We can't afford any 'indrances. Perhaps Redford and his men will double back for them."

The whole crew seemed rather grave following the short-winded celebration, but I couldn't understand why. We'd won, hadn't we? Why were they so preoccupied with the casualties? They mattered nothing – was it not normal to rejoice over the death of the enemy? I wanted to ask about it, but I decided that perhaps it was not the best idea. There seemed to be some sort of cultural disconnect and I certainly didn't want to bring attention to my foreign sensibilities.

After the ship was ridded of the bodies, Sparrow commanded, "Cassiopeia. Captain's quarters. Now." Without waiting for me to catch up, he turned abruptly on his heel and disappeared into his room. My heart tightened in my chest; this couldn't be good. Slowly, I followed him.

Once inside, he looked at me from his large, map-riddled desk and said, "Do you mind explaining to me _why, _pray tell, you felt it necessary to undermine me earlier today in front of the entire crew. Am I not your captain? Am I not in a position of – what's the word? Oh yes – _authority_? I'm curious to know why you deemed it appropriate to address me with such… impertinence."

"I'm very sorry, sir," I said sincerely (though I was not indeed sincere), "I didn't mean to disrespect you." I bent my head repentantly for added effect – the last thing I wanted to do was create a potentially hazardous situation for myself.

Sparrow reached across the desk with one dirty, bejeweled hand and lifted my chin roughly. "Y'know, love, I'm not nearly as foolish as my appearance may in fact suggest. Or maybe I am. But be that as it may, there's something you must get straight in your bonny little head right at this very instant: I'm keeping you around for one reason, and one reason only. There's something rather interesting about you, though I have yet to figure out just what exactly _that_ is. I have a nagging suspicion that you just might come in handy at some point, and I'm never one to ignore my instincts, ey? Do not make the mistake of thinking you're useful as a pirate - or even as a person, for that matter. You're not here because you're a good sailor – to be fair, I haven't seen enough to make any judgments on that account just yet – and you're certainly not here because you're a good fighter. And also, I know you're not sorry. Please do us both a favor and don't even pretend to be."

"Are you angry with me?"

At this, he seemed to relax considerably and gave me a crooked grin. "I'm Captain Jack Sparrow, dearie. Mark my words, you would most definitely know if I were angry with ye."

"Then why call me in here?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.

"You killed a man today… Men, even," he began absent-mindedly.

"Aye, sir," I said, thinking myself witty for using a bit of pirate slang, "Is that not what I was meant to do?"

"Meant to do, meant to do! How should _I _know what _you're _meant to do? Don't be ridiculous. No, no, I'm merely making an observation. I've seen men more than twice your size hold swords to the necks of others and waver in their intent. But _you_, you didn't even blink. The only person I've seen with so little regard for human life is – _was? _– Is, was, tricky things. In any case, as I was saying, the only man I've seen with so little regard for human life was Edward Teach, otherwise known as Blackbeard." He paused, as if waiting for me to say something.

"Blackbeard, sir?"

"Aye, Blackbeard. The one and only."

"… And _who_ exactly is Blackbeard, sir?"

"Who is Blackbeard?" he repeated, taken aback. For a moment, he seemed very confused, but it quickly passed. "No one, no one. Never mind that. All water under the bridge, as it were."

"Is that why you called me in here, then, Captain? To tell me that?"

"In a manner of speaking, I suppose. Just wanted to have a little chat, really. That's all. Tell me one more thing, love, where exactly do you hail from. I know Tortuga like the back of me hand and I know for a fact that you are most definitely _not _from the aforementioned area, as unfortunate as that may be, so please do not try to persuade me otherwise. If you were actually _from_ Tortuga – I understand that you were _in_ Tortuga, but that's entirely different – you'd never've left, what with the money you'd be raking in…"

"I'm from London, sir," I lied again, interrupting his tangent. I'd all but given up trying to follow his convoluted strings of words. I had of course learned to speak English (and many other languages – you'd never be able to seduce a sailor you couldn't communicate with) at a young age, but I wasn't accustomed to hearing it so frequently and so incessantly. Many of the pirates, with their grammatically deprived sentence structures and coarse tones, proved difficult to understand; but Sparrow, in particular, pushed the limits of my linguistic capabilities in a much different way.

"London. But of course – capital of the British Empire – the world, even. Big city. Well-guarded," he commented reminiscently. "Right then, I'd say we're just about done here. Oh, wait one more moment, I nearly forgot - you've never held a sword before, have you? Couldn't help but notice that you were gutting that poor wretch with absolutely atrocious technique. Perhaps you ought to try to get good ole Jack Tar to help you out, aye?"

"… Jack Tar?"

"Navy lad. Wentworth. My, my, girlie, you _are _a bit on the slow side of things, aren't you? Now, I'm quite sure that's all I had to say… I think… I hope. Go, go, scurry off." He flicked his hand in a motion to wave me away and turned his attention to his charts. I lingered for a moment, trying to comprehend what just happened and just how exactly I'd come into contact with a man so peculiar.

He looked up again. "You're still here. Why are you still here? Off you go! You've got work to do – I do so _loathe_ the sight of bloodstains on my deck."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I'd love to know what you all think of Jack's portrayal - he's very fun to write, but also _very_ difficult... It'd be great to get some feedback on his characterization! Thanks for reading! **


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Thank you so so so much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! I hope you all enjoy this one.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter VI<strong>

As soon as I got outside, I was met with more than a few curious looks. However, no one said anything until I was handed a bucket of water and a brush.

"Time to be scrubbin' the decks," Gibbs instructed, shoving the cleaning materials into my arms.

I knelt down beside Emery and Schmitty, who were already toiling away furiously. Towards the bow of the ship, Wentworth tended to the injured Spritely's wound, while his brother supervised protectively. After sterilizing the affected area with rum, he dressed it with a torn piece of cloth.

"Off you go, Tommy-boy. Keep it covered and remember to change the bandages," he reminded him.

The younger man nodded gratefully and went back to work with his brother.

I hadn't realized that I'd been staring until I locked gazes with Wentworth. His eyes quickly flicked from my face to my shoulder, and he started to approach me.

"You're hurt," he said eventually.

"Just a scrape," I said nonchalantly, "I'll be fine."

"Still, it should be cleaned. You wouldn't want it to fester… Here, let me…" Without my consent, he began giving my upper arm the same attention he'd given Tom's hand.

"Thanks…" I said quietly once he'd finished. For some reason, I felt embarrassed and as if I couldn't meet his stare. It was not a pleasant feeling.

"Don't mention it. 'Spose we should get back to work, though," he suggested with a goofy smile.

"I suppose so," I agreed carefully. Oh dear. This was not good. I had the nagging suspicion that Wentworth was beginning to become infatuated with me. Perhaps if I ignored his advances, he would get the message. I could only hope.

Soon enough, Sparrow had emerged from his quarters and resumed navigation of the ship.

"How much longer til we reach our destination, Cap'n?" Gibbs asked.

"Oh, I dunno. You know how these things go, mate – could be a matter of hours or a matter of days. We'll find 'er when she wants to be found, I'm sure."

"So it _is_ who I think it is!" he exclaimed proudly.

"I was _referring_ to the island," Sparrow countered disparagingly. "Oi, Navy boy," he started abruptly, "Seeing as you've seemed to have taken such a fancy to our dear Cassiopeia, why don't ye teach her how to use that utterly worthless cutlass on 'er belt."

I jumped at the sound of my name, which he pronounced very exaggeratedly as "Cass-i-o-peia." I hadn't been aware that Sparrow was even observing the crew, let alone analyzing my interactions with Wentworth.

"Aye aye, sir," the other man replied obediently. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Wentworth was sweet, but it was obvious that he was nothing more than a sheep following his proverbial shepherd.

But I didn't want to be rude, so I graciously accepted his offer. Plus, it would be a useful skill to learn. Although, I was quite sure that he wasn't nearly as good a swordfighter as he made himself out to be; Cotton, Marty, Gibbs, and Sparrow were all significantly better versed in the art of fencing, no doubt.

Wentworth hesitated for a moment. "_Now_, sir?" he asked timidly.

"No, next week," Sparrow said sarcastically, "Yes, now."

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir."

The captain didn't bother gracing him with a response, but instead turned his attention to his compass.

"Right, stand up," Wentworth instructed me.

I did as I was told and automatically unsheathed my sword.

"Now," he said, "let's work on footwork first – it's the most important part. Watch where I step and try to mirror it."

_Footwork? This should be interesting…_ I thought cynically.

He shuffled to the side by crossing his left foot over his right, and I slowly emulated his motions.

"Good. Now if I strike here," he put his weapon up near my right shoulder, "you must block me."

I brought my cutlass up to meet his, relishing the faint _ting _of metal on metal.

"Let's try the same thing, only faster." And so we did. It was painfully simple.

"I have another idea," I butted in, "Why don't you just pretend you're fighting me for real, and I'll try to defend myself. I think that might facilitate things – that's more or less what I did earlier."

"I don't know if that's a good – "

"Sure it is," I interrupted, "Just try not to kill me. Stop yourself before you actually strike."

"Alright, if that's truly what you wish…" he said begrudgingly.

He came at me again, and I could tell that he was restraining himself. However, this method was infinitely more exciting.

As he swung, I just narrowly dodged him.

"For such a pretty thing, you sure are clumsy," he commented, readying himself for another blow.

"Thank you," I replied sardonically. When he struck this time, I blocked his attack with my blade instead of jumping out of the way. The force sent painful shockwaves through my wrist. Motivated by this sensation, _I _made a move to attack him. He wasn't expecting it, so I got a cheap shot off. I accidentally sliced the back of his hand.

"I'm so sorry!" I exclaimed, mortified.

It wasn't a deep wound by any means, but it was still bleeding. One scarlet streak of blood ran down his skin, finally forming a droplet and falling to the ground. I couldn't take my eyes off of the scene.

"You're squeamish, I see," he commented, tearing a piece of his chemise to bandage the cut.

"What?"

"You don't like blood – I don't know if that's a good quality to have on a pirate ship…"

"Oh, yes… I detest blood. Makes me sick." In fact, nothing could have been farther from the truth. I found the sight of it tantalizing, almost disturbingly so. Perhaps it was just another one of my mermaid quirks.

He shook his head in mock disappointment. "Such a woman," he teased.

I gave him a feeble smile, before asking, "Are you certain you're all right? I feel horrible… I can't believe I did that!"

"It's just a scratch," he said, echoing my words from earlier.

"Maybe we should stop…" I suggested.

"Do you want to stop?"

"No – well, I mean, I want what you want," I said lamely.

"I think we should carry out this lesson," he said firmly. He was not about to allow his ego be tarnished by a flesh wound – he didn't want me to think he was weak.

"Alright, then…" However, this time I was most definitely going to wait for him to make the first move.

This sparring continued for another forty minutes or so, without any other injuries. By the end of it, I didn't feel as if I had improved my skills in any quantifiable way, but I supposed that it would take much more practice for there to be any visible progress.

The sun was just about to set, and Emery had been given galley duty for the night. The crew had tried to pin the task on me (on account of my being a woman), but Sparrow had intervened and insisted that I desperately needed fencing practice (somehow he'd managed to insult me while simultaneously trying to help me…). I was infinitely thankful for this, though, for I hadn't even the slimmest idea of how to cook – I knew next to nothing about human food, so I studied closely what Emery had prepared in the hopes that I might be able to replicate it in the future. I noticed, interestingly enough, that Sparrow was not partaking in the banquet that poor Emery had scrounged together and had instead decided to retire to his cabin.

I watched in fascination as some sort of fish-concoction was scooped onto my dusty pewter plate. Judging by the looks that the others were giving the meal, it wasn't considered to be appetizing. However, I had no qualms – any type of fish, in my opinion, was delicious.

I happily dug into the meal in front of me, garnering several disgusted looks from my fellow crewmates.

"What?" I asked through a mouthful of fishtails as they all eyed me in revulsion.

"At least _someone_ likes me cookin'," Emery said accusatorily to the rest of the men. "Hey, if the lass can eat it, how bad could it be?"

In response, Schmitty spat out a mouthful of half-chewed goop back onto his plate. "This stuff's awful!" he complained.

"It can't be _that_ bad…" He tried some for himself, and visibly struggled in swallowing. "Oh," he said in defeat once he'd gotten it down.

"Great," Marty said angrily, "We've been sailin' for days, and I've yet to have somethin' to eat. You, missy," he said, pointing to me, "shall be takin' over galley duty for the rest o' the trip."

"I can't cook…" I stated somewhat bashfully.

"Well, you'd best learn," he countered, " 'cause you're not 'ere to improve the scenery."

With that, he stormed out, presumably to indulge in some sort of tomfoolery involving the rum supply. The rest of the crew followed suit, save me. I hadn't eaten in days either, and this fish stew (if that's even what it was meant to be) was certainly hitting the spot.

When I'd finished, I walked out on the main deck to see everyone drinking from growlers and dancing; even Cotton was participating, strumming a tune on some sort of guitar-like instrument. Gibbs was passed out on a barrel and the Spritelies, who were probably drunk for the first time in their short lives, were holding onto each other for dear life. Eventually, Tom – the finger-less one – broke out into song.

"Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life ferme!" he slurred rowdily.

The conscious members of the party acted as if this was the first time anyone had ever thought of singing in the history of time, and joined in eagerly.

"We pillage, we plunder, we rifle, we loot," they sang in unison, "Drink up me'earties yo ho!"

Now thoroughly entranced, I sat on the steps next to Cotton and watched the musical fiasco unfold.

Sparrow poked his head out stealthily from his door. "Did I 'ear…?" Upon witnessing the bacchanal, however, he slammed the door open dramatically and fully emerged.

"Oi! What're you lot doing! The rum! You're drinking all the rum!" He began absurdly prying the bottles out of everyone's hands, much to their displeasure.

"You never struck me as one to break up such a lively celebration… sir," I commented cheekily.

"Believe you me," he began elaborately, "nothing pains me more than impeding on a perfectly good drunken extravaganza. But, you see, this is all the rum we've got. This rum – this rum right here – has to last us for some unspecified duration of time. Do you understand what that means? We could run out! Do you know what happens when we run out of rum?"

I shook my head, indicating that I indeed did not.

"Bad things," he answered testily, "horrendous things. Things that would make your skin crawl. Which is why," he continued with newfound cheeriness, "we mustn't let it happen."

I couldn't quite tell whether or not he was being serious, but the idea entered my head that a lack of rum might really, truly be a bad thing – it would also mean a lack of an antiseptic and a lack of stomach-able drinking water.

Sparrow took a long, exaggerated swig, before sashaying back into his room with his arms filled with half-empty bottles.

The members of the crew who were still physically sound enough to register what had happened sourly filed below deck, and I followed them. Wentworth wasn't nearly as inebriated as the others, so I (barely) helped him support Gibbs, Emery, and Scmitty below deck. Marty, Cotton, and the others were able to mind themselves, thank the Lord. When the limp bodies of unconscious three were secured, I helped the Spritelies into their hammocks (they had been having a real hard time with it, and after the fourth or fifth time I couldn't stand to see them fall face-first to the floor again). Tomorrow, I thought wryly, none of them would be in any state to continue sailing. Oh well. It was their own fault.

When everyone was safely tucked away, I fell into my own hammock and attempted to drift to sleep. However, Schmitty's ungodly snoring – despite being a welcome sign that he was, indeed, alive – was proving to be quite the preventative force. So I lay there, still as possible, caught on the border between sleep and consciousness. I opened my eyes drowsily and saw a dim light coming from the top of the stairs, probably from the lamps on deck – someone – everyone – must have forgotten to put them out. I was inexplicably drawn to it; I stood and began to climb up the narrow staircase.

After I hit the chilly night air, it became apparent that the deck was deserted. I'd thought perhaps that Sparrow might be there, but it seemed that even he had turned in for the night.

It was so beautiful – so serene. The water was calm and black, reflecting the stars so that the horizon was completely indistinguishable; the water and the night were one. It was like there was nothing in the world apart from the sea and the sky and the ship.

But I felt a pang of longing in my stomach – this was not how it was supposed to be. There should not have been any ship; anything that separated me from the sea – my home – was wrong. It was false – an unnatural barrier – a lie. I dearly missed the coolness against my skin and the feeling of the water passing through my hair.

I needed to be in the water. I needed to be one with the ocean once again, if only for a brief moment.

But was it worth the risk? Was it worth someone discovering what I was?

It was so unlikely that anyone would come out here – the crew was fast asleep…

I made my decision, and quickly started undressing. I would only swim for a few minutes, and then I would climb right back aboard. Everything would be fine.

I resisted the urge to jump in the water and instead resolved to shimmy down the anchor line (which was a very unpleasant experience, mind you) so as to not make a splash.

I eased feet-first into the cool liquid and felt an extremely bizarre sensation that I presumed to be my legs fusing together. In no time, my tail was back and I felt complete. I dunked my head under and attempted to clean off my face and my hair. Then, I swam.

I dove to the deepest inky depths beneath the ship and circled the hull several times. I had never felt so joyous – so free. I let out a gleeful shriek from underneath the gentle waves, watching as bubbles flew from my mouth and the sound became nothing more than an eerily muffled squeak.

But I soon had to end my late-night excursion and climb back up the rope. The longer I lingered, the greater the risk.

After I hit the deck, I tried to shake off as much water as I could as quietly as I could, before I began to re-dress with disappointment.

When I was fully confident that no one had witnessed my little transformation, I went back to the crew's quarters and was finally able to sleep after having sufficiently tired myself out.

I was sure that I'd been enjoying myself aboard the _Poseidon's Jewel. _I loved the sense of change, and life aboard a ship was certainly exciting, to say the least. The people were entertaining, and I'd never had the opportunity to spend time with males in their nature habitat before; this was all quite the learning experience.

Up until this point, I really hadn't given Whitecap Bay or my old life much thought. But, that night, my dreams were filled with phantom images of my sisters and the ghosts of their cries. Their wretched screams of anguish and the chaotic scene of them desperately swimming away from me were forever scorched into my memory.

Perhaps I had been wrong to leave. What if the survivors needed me?

But I couldn't go back, for there wasn't anything for me to go back _to_. So many of my sisters were dead, and I was nothing more than a traitor.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I'm trying to make Jack a little more light-hearted - some of you said that he seemed a bit too harsh in the last chapter, so I'm trying to rectify that. The reason I made him seem that way was because I always thought of him as a person who would take a long time to trust or even act semi-natural around someone new. I re-watched the first movie, and he did seem kind of abrupt with Will and Elizabeth when he first met them but I can see where I went a bit overboard (no pun intended lol). In any case, I'm sorry for this rambling and I hope you'll review and let me know if you think his characterization has improved any! :)**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! This story isn't exactly overflowing with feedback, so it really means a lot to me when anyone reviews. I hope you're all enjoying this story as much as I'm enjoying writing it!**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter VII<strong>

The next day, I began to see just how strenuous life aboard a ship truly was. Not only was I exhausted from endlessly pulling ropes and scrubbing floors, but I was also sunburned beyond belief. I'd never spent much time above water, and I naturally had an extremely fair complexion. This did not bode well for me, as I was now a very angry shade of red. Even the tips of my ears, which I didn't even know _could_ be exposed to the sun, were burnt and throbbing painfully.

Everyone noticed and poked fun at this fact, and, either in an act of mercy or an act of torture (I still haven't decided which), Sparrow sent me indoors to the galley.

And so, I spent the latter half of the day attempting to fabricate some sort of edible creation.

My materials were scant: a couple of apples, some old fish (I wasn't sure how much longer it would last), about half a cup of palm oil, a tad bit of rum, some flour, some brown sugar, and three eggs.

I had laid all of these ingredients out on the counter and was staring at them contemplatively, when Tim appeared.

"I've been sent to supervise you," he announced in response to my bewildered expression, plopping himself down on a stool across from me.

"How are you feeling this fine afternoon?" I asked him smugly, remembering the previous night's travesty.

He groaned, rubbed his temples, and replied, "I _really _don't care to talk about it… What've you got here?"

"I don't quite know," I answered tentatively. "But I expect I should make this fish before it goes completely bad, what do you think?"

"Aye, t'would be a shame to let it go to waste."

"Does fish go with brown sugar and apples?"

He made a face of utter repulsion, which I took as a no. "Why don't you just make fishcakes," he suggested.

"Fish… Cakes?"

"Yes," he began slowly, throwing me an odd look, "fishcakes. Haven't you had them before?"

"No…"

"They're fairly simple to make, I reckon. I've seen me mum do it loads of times." There was a brief flash of sadness across his face, but he continued, "Just put some oil in a pan for now – I'll help you with the fire."

When that bit was finished, he started cutting the heads and the scales off of the fishes, before slicing them into smaller pieces. "Crack the eggs into one bowl and pour some flour into the other," he instructed. "We don't have _everything_ we need, but this should suffice."

I did as I was told with limited success – a few pieces of eggshell fell into the mix, but not enough to matter in any significant way.

"Now watch," he said as he dipped a slice of meat into the egg and then into the flour. He then dropped the coated fish into the hot pan, causing the oil to hiss dangerously. I backed away nervously at the sound.

"Aye, you've got to be careful not to burn yourself," he said in response to my reaction. "Haven't you ever cooked before? Surely you already know all of this?" he interrogated insistently. He couldn't seem to fathom that a woman my age would be so inexperienced in the culinary arts.

Suddenly, he seemed to have an epiphany. "You're high-born, aren't you?" he accused.

"What – no – I – "

"You are," he interrupted, "You must be. That explains why you speak so proper and don't know how to do nothing – and it explains the way you look."

"I know how to do things," I snapped back defensively. "And I'm just naturally pale, alright? I don't see why everyone seems to find it so amusing…"

"You don' know how to cook, that's for sure. And 'naturally pale' isn't an entirely accurate description – I've seen lobsters that aren't as red as you are right now."

"You flatter me," I retorted sarcastically.

"I'm merely statin' a fact, Miss."

"You don't have to call me 'Miss,'" I said. Despite myself, a small smile had found its way onto my face. I quite liked this sort of little banter, I found… "Just Cassie or Cassiopeia will do just fine. It's not as if I'm high-born, after all…"

He gave me a mischievous grin as well, but continued to help me fry the pieces of fish.

"How old are you and your brother," I asked suddenly.

He gave me an odd look and said, "Fifteen, why?"

"I was merely wondering."

"In other words, far too young for _you_, Miss Cassie."

"Excuse me, but that is a repulsive notion – I assure you I did _not _mean it in that way!"

"Relax, I'm only pulling your leg."

"What?" I demanded in horror.

"I'm joking, I'm joking! Golly, it's a figure o' speech. What's the matter with you?"

"Oh, sorry… I hadn't heard what you said," I lied, still not understanding what he was talking about. "You two are still young, though – how do your parents feel about your being here, if you don't mind my asking? "

He cast his eyes downwards and suddenly became much more serious. "Me brother 'n me were born in the colonies. Never met our father," he said solemnly, "And our mum died last year of consumption. The two of us tried to work as stable boys back up North, but them frilly toads treated us in a right ghastly fashion. So, we hitched a ride on a trade vessel and eventually got off in Tortuga. What about you, what's your story?"

"It's a bit complicated... Essentially, I stowed away on a ship from London and escaped in Tortuga, where I met Mr. Gibbs and followed him aboard the _Jewel._ And now here I am."

"Have you got a family?"

"I had several sisters," I said delicately, "But my parents died before I was old enough to remember them. It was mostly just me and my siblings growing up."

"How many sisters do you have, exactly?"

"Five," I answered, arbitrarily coming up with a number. "But they're dead now – there was a fire in our house and I was the only one to escape. That's part of why I decided to come here – I had nowhere else to go, and starting a new life in the Americas appeared to be the best course of action." I felt guilty for lying, but, to be fair, parts of my story were true. The parts that mattered were, at least.

He nodded slightly in silent understanding – we'd both lost people close to us. Having connected in this small way, we went back to work. It felt very odd to interact with someone – a human, at that – on this level. True, my sisters and I _were_ just that – sisters. But our relationships would have seemed strange to humans. For instance, we were not nearly as close as Tim and Tom were, and we did not interact in the same way. We were all related, to be sure, but the odd thing was that none of us had known our parents and so we did not feel connected in any deep way. I didn't know how (this is going to sound very bizarre, but bear with me) mermaids were produced. Or _reproduced_, perhaps, is more accurate. It wasn't something that I thought about often, mind you, but it did indeed strike me that the entirety of my species was female.

And, within my family (I'm using the term loosely), there was a rigid hierarchy. Tamara was the queen, and she had five close "advisors," if you will. The rest of us had to wait for them to take their prey before we could do anything, et cetera. It was similar to the way that many other types of animals interact in a large group. And even below me were the youngest mermaids, who were, for all intents and purposes, servants. We were a bit more sophisticated than, say, a pack of wolves, of course; but the parallels were still there. Plus, we were solitatry creatures within our familial bindings: it wasn't all that common to see a group of mermaids who were particularly close in the sense of friendship. Apart from the queen and her minions, that is. Our selfish natures made it nearly impossible to have meaningful relationships with other living beings, even within our own species.

But alas, I digress. I was done with such a life, so there was no use in devoting my thoughts to it. However we came into being was how we came into being and, to be entirely honest, it wasn't as if I was dying to know the logistics of it. I could only hope, for everyone's sake, that this voyage would make me less like my sisters. I wasn't exactly proud of my hertiage, per say, and I knew that it would be best if I could dilute the moral flaws in my character with human culture.

When Tim and I had finished cooking, I rationed out the food and he called the rest of the crew down to eat.

I watched with eagerly as Schmitty, the man with the iron stomach, took the first bite. After several moments of pensive chewing, he announced, "Not bad. Not bad at all, milady."

I beamed at him happily and took a spoonful of food from my own dish.

"It's good," Emery finally agreed.

"No thanks to me, o' course…" Tim grumbled quietly.

I looked at him sassily and decided not to let the rest of the crew know the extent of his helpfulness – I rather liked that they thought I'd done all the work.

At some point, even Sparrow made it downstairs. He grabbed a fishcake with one of his dirty hands from off of my plate and took a large chunk out of it. He mulled it over carefully and turned to go back upstairs. Before he did, however, he swung back around, saluted Tim, and said, "G'job, Timbo," with his mouth still full.

Tim grinned broadly at this fleeting acknowledgement. It was clear to me that both he and his brother held the captain in absurdly high esteem. Normally I would have found such hero-worship a bit off-putting, but, for some strange reason, I found the quality endearing in the Spritely boys. However, I couldn't help but fear that Sparrow didn't quite merit the admiration he elicited.

After dinner, the rest of the crew decided to have a relatively tame night (the previous day's festivities had taken a sufficient toll on them). They huddled on deck in the lamplight, playing cards and other betting games. But no one really had any money to wager, thank goodness, so there wasn't much of a risk that the games would turn violent. Not that I though any of my crewmates had the potential of being unnecessarily argumentative, but still… I'd only known them for a matter of days, and I wasn't ready to trust all of them just yet.

Hence, I did not participate. Instead, I hung the upper part of my body over the side of the boat and reveled in the spray of the sea and the cool breeze.

Sparrow spotted this and planted himself beside me. "Not going to partake in tonight's activities?" he questioned.

I shook my head. "Don't know how to play," I explained. "Plus," I continued, "I rather prefer to just enjoy the water."

"I see," he commented cryptically.

"Aren't _you _going to partake in tonight's activities?" I replied.

"Nope. The captain of a ship cannot afford to stoop to the level of his crew," he said in half-jest, "I need to separate myself from the rest o' you scallywags – I've most certainly learned that the hard way, and I won't be forgettin' it any time soon."

"I see," I echoed. His actions did indeed reflect such a philosophy, despite the fact that he seemed critical of it. I'd noticed before that he was rather detached from the rest of the crew (apart from Gibbs, of course).

I turned to him brazenly and asked, "So what exactly do you do in that little room of yours? You're obviously scheming something, but you've yet to tell us where we're even going."

"No one's asked," he said dismissively.

"That's not true. Marty's asked – so has Mr. Gibbs."

"I wasn't aware that we had an eavesdropper aboard… I admit, they have indeed asked. But _they_ know me and they know enough to know that they can't not trust me."

"What?"

"What I mean so say is this: they understand my… methods. If one o' the others had asked, then of course we might have run into some sort of confrontational impasse, which would be _most _unfortunate. But such a thing has yet to happen."

"_I'm _asking."

"But _you_ don't really care, do ye?"

I blinked slowly, surprised. How did he know that? "On just what exactly are you basing such a bold conjecture, if I might ask?"

"Oh, many things. You're not like the rest o' the sea dogs on this pathetic dinghy - you're just glad to be here. You're here for the the journey rather than the destination, at it were. For instance, look around the crew. As I said before, Marty, Cotton, n' Gibbs already know me so we can't use them as examples. But look at Emery and Schmitty."

"What about them?"

"_They _could potentially be trouble. They've sailed before; they've got scars and rings and gold teeth – veritable proof of previous expeditions, no doubt. The teeth show a hankering for treasure, mark me words. And the rest – well, the Spritelies don' care where we're going in the least, same as you, and young Wentworth is distracted."

"Distracted?"

"Aye, distracted. By you, no less. I've seen 'is type many a time. Could perhaps be hotheaded and rash at times, but as long as you're around I'm quite confident that he won't be any trouble at all. Haven't you noticed? I think he's being rather clear about his intentions, love… Aren't you charmed by his misplaced sense of ethical responsibility or his honorable demeanor?"

"No, I can't say that I am."

"Interesting. Why not, pray tell?"

"I don't know, I'm just not."

"He is handsome enough, is he not? And chivalrous? And strong, and brave, and all of the other things that bonny lasses such as yerself find quite attractive in a man, aye?"

"I don't know, I guess so… But I'm _not_ attracted to him so there really isn't anything interesting about it."

"That's precisely what _is_ interesting, my dear Cassiopeia."

"_Anyway_," I said in an attempt to change the subject, "I'd still like to know where we're going."

"Will knowledge of said destination affect your decisions or desire to proceed with this noble quest?"

"…No, I suppose not…"

"Then you don't need to know," he said simply. "Just know this – I was not lying when I said we were headed to treasure. Eventually, anyway. But I must strongly urge you to bear in mind that not all treasure consists solely of golden coins and fancy jewels, love." With that, he strode away from me and climbed back up to the helm.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thanks for reading! One thing I'd like to hear back about is what you guys think of the pacing - I've always struggled with this, and I'm afraid often make my stories move too quickly. I'm trying especially hard not to do that with this one! It'd also be great to hear what you think of the other characters as well (i.e. Wentworth, the Spritelies...).**

**So, as always, I'd love some feedback! Not to put any pressure on you all, but today is my birthday and reviews would make wonderful gifts :p  
><strong>

**Until next time!  
><strong>


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who's reviewed/alerted/favorited! It really means a lot to me - I'm so lucky to have people who enjoy reading my stories :)**

** I hope you all enjoy this chapter!**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter VIII<strong>

That very same night, whilst everyone was asleep, I wandered once again onto the main deck. Truth be told, I was very rarely alone during the day and I had always been someone who valued independence – it very was difficult for me to adjust to being surrounded by people every at waking moment. However, it really wasn't something I _wanted _to adjust to; I was perfectly content in being just a mite antisocial. Plus, I'd always liked to think there was something to be said about setting aside time to be alone; I thought, perhaps, that an in-depth knowledge of one's own character could be beneficial in terms of decision-making and the like. But maybe that was just me.

I contemplated going swimming again, but decided against it. Instead, I looked into the distance at the numerous glittering stars against their dark blue backdrop. The view was something I truly appreciated about being on land. From beneath the surface of the sea, the stars were just faint globs of light. But, on land, they were breathtakingly beautiful – especially when they were reflected against the water.

It was then that I noticed something very far off in the distance. I squinted and tried to make out what it was, but the darkness made such a feat nigh impossible.

I decided, either because I wanted to or because I felt it was my duty, to inform Sparrow.

"Captain," I hissed, knocking lightly on the door. I didn't want to rouse him from his sleep, but I suspected that there was a faint possibility of him already being awake. If he _wasn't_, he probably wouldn't hear me and I could further investigate the shadow on the horizon during the day.

I heard a shuffling from within, and suddenly a disgruntled-looking Captain Sparrow appeared in front of me. He was in some sort of state of undress, without his usual frock, tricorn, or effects.

"What could you possibly want at this late hour?" he asked gruffly. Perhaps I was wrong in thinking he'd been awake…

"I think I see land," I whispered. He briefly disappeared back into his chamber, causing me to crane my neck to see what he was doing, but to no avail. He soon came back out with a spyglass in hand.

The two of us walked over to the side of the ship. "There," I said, pointing to where I saw the shape.

He extended the telescope and peered through the lens.

"Is it land?" I inquired.

"Aye," he replied quietly, "But it's difficult to say whether or not it's the land we're looking for – we'll only be able to know for sure in the morning."

"I see," I said, nodding.

"What were you doing out here?" he asked after a beat of silence.

"Erm, I don't know… I was just thinking, I guess. I like to be alone when everyone's asleep…"

He raised an eyebrow. "You've done this before? We've only been aboard for three nights."

"Is there something wrong with my being out here?" I asked defensively.

"No, I s'pose not. It's just a tad peculiar, is all," he answered thoughtfully.

I gave him a look that said, _you're one to be talking_, but didn't verbally respond.

"In any case," he continued, "you should be getting back to sleep. If that _is _indeed the land we're looking for, then we'll be sailing for it tomorrow as quickly as possible."

"Why should there be any rush?" I questioned, "It's not as if it's going anywhere…"

He gave me an unsettling half-grin and replied, "I don't like to take any chances, love. Now off you go, back to bed."

_(The next day…)_

I was on deck that morning before everyone else – the excitement of having spotted an island caused me to awake with an inordinate amount of energy. I bounced up the staircase and became aware for the first time that I was now able to walk with almost complete normalcy. I grinned to myself proudly and continued my hike upwards.

After my eyes adjusted to the light of the rising sun, I looked over the side of the ship and couldn't believe what I was witnessing.

I ran to Sparrow's door (invoking a strange sense of déjà vu) and started banging. "Captain, Captain you really must get out here!" I exclaimed, my gaze still transfixed on the unbelievable sight before me.

I hadn't noticed that he'd opened the door, and I fell onto him. However, I quickly recovered, only to be met with an odd look from Sparrow.

"You really ought to pay more attention to what you're doing," he commented wryly. "And thank you for the sentiment, but I did in fact see the island from my window."

He was calm. Very calm. And I couldn't comprehend why.

"Aren't you surprised?" I pressed.

"Oh yes, absolutely astounded," he said in a tone that completely contradicted his assertion.

By this time, the rest of the crew had heard the commotion and begun to trickle on deck as well.

"Well I'll be – would you look at that!" Tom exclaimed with a laugh. "Fantastic!" Tim concurred cheerily.

Emery and Schmitty rushed over to the railing to get a better look, and Wentworth stood slack-jawed in amazement. "That – that's impossible," he stuttered.

"Obviously not," Sparrow commented lightly.

"Ah," Gibbs croaked with a lazy grin, "So I was right all along."

"You've been here before?" Marty asked.

"No, but I've 'eard stories. First-hand stories, mind you. Jack's one o' the only people to have ever gotten off that there island. Isla Flotante, as it happens to be called, and let me tell ye…"

"Sounds like _every _story concernin' Cap'n Sparrow," Marty remarked skeptically.

The older man contorted his face in puzzlement, as if it were the first time he had ever realized this fact.

"It's so _close_," I said under my breath, "How can it possibly be so close?"

"Funny things, islands are," Sparrow began in response, staring at the landmass, "Tiny heaps of sand surrounded by water. Not big enough for anyone or anything to properly live on, and yet here they are. Purposeless. Stationary."

"Where are you going with this, _sir_?" I asked un-amusedly, turning to face him for the first time.

"What if they weren't any of those things," he said mysteriously, "What if they weren't purposeless _or_ stationary?"

"Then they wouldn't be islands," I reasoned.

"On the contrary, love – that's where you're wrong." He finally looked at me and grinned crookedly, before shouting, "Oi, mates, we need to get onto that island, savvy? Run 'er aground – we need to beach her on the shore."

"But sir," Tom piped in, "We've got long boats – we don't need to beach her…"

"Trust me, son: if you intend on leaving this island, we need to beach her."

The crew did as the captain ordered, much to everyone's chagrin. Thankfully the ship wasn't very large, but it was still going to be an ordeal to get it back into the sea. In fact, I couldn't fathom how the ten of us would be able to move it.

But we would worry about that later, I supposed.

Suddenly, something dawned on me. "Isla Flotante," I whispered to myself, "Floating Island!" _That's _why we needed to beach the ship…

Out of nowhere, Sparrow had come up behind me, dropped Schmitty's tricorn on my head, and said, "Aye, Floatin' Island. And sorry mate, but she's been needing this much more than you have." Before anyone could conjure up a response, he was gone again.

"You can have your hat back, if you like," I said to Schmitty after a few moments had passed.

"S'all right, lass. You do indeed need it more'n I do – it'll keep the sun off ye."

"Thank you," I said, genuinely touched by this small act of kindness.

In one rough and sudden movement, the entire ship started to quake. I assumed this was the act of us running aground, but I hadn't realized how violent a toll it would take. I, for one, was unceremoniously thrown to the floor, whilst the others braced themselves on various parts of the ship.

"Well _that_ was graceful…" I muttered sarcastically when the tremor had ceased.

"Everyone!" Sparrow began, "It is extremely important that you listen to what I have to say before we go on land. This, as you all know, is not where we will find our treasure. It is, however, a bit of a detour, as it were. A very, very necessary detour, to be sure, but a detour at that. So, what I wish to say is this: do not be fooled by anything you see here, for it is not in fact what it may seem. You will not_, _I repeat, will _not_, find treasure on this island, understood? Don't let your eyes deceive you."

There was a general rumble of consensus.

"Good! Now that that's out of the way, I say we go out n' explore this lovely little piece of property." Without further ado, he grabbed one of the ropes and began his descent, protecting himself from hitting the side of the ship by using his feet to propel down. The rest of the crew soon followed suit.

When we were all firmly on solid ground, I surveyed the area. The island had most certainly looked smaller from the boat. The beach stretched about three ships' lengths, and towards the center of the landmass laid a dense forest of palm trees.

"What now?" I asked.

"We must head into the woods," Sparrow announced loudly.

"I wonder what the Captain was referring to when he told us not to 'be fooled by anything we see,'" Wentworth whispered to me conspiratorially.

"I wouldn't worry about it," I replied lightly, "Half of what he says seems to be completely irrelevant..." "Or perhaps just impossible to decipher," I added as an afterthought. I soon walked past Wentworth, not wanting him to get the impression that we were chums. I had no intention of being his confidant, and honestly was not interested in his suspicions regarding the Captain. I needed to keep my distance from him, before he got any unwelcome ideas; I was not about to be press-ganged into some sort of ridiculous romance.

Instead, I made my way towards Mr. Gibbs. For some fascinating reason, his wariness of my presence only made me want to be around him more – it was as if I longed to win his approval. (Though, that couldn't _possibly_ be it – I certainly did not need anyone's approval; I wasn't a child. But something deep inside gave me the nagging feeling that I was trying just a _little _too hard to convince myself of this fact).

"Mr. Gibbs," I started, "What exactly is it about this island that makes it so dangerous?"

Never one to pass up the opportunity to tell a good story, the older man couldn't help but answer. "You see, lass, this spit o' land ain't just any ordinary island."

"I'd guessed that," I replied, rolling my eyes, "But _why_? Apart from the fact that it floats, of course."

"Legend 'as it that this island is inhabited by but one creature – one of the most fearsome known to man."

"What type of creature?" I asked in wonderment.

"A woman."

At this, I stifled the urge to scoff.

"But not just any woman," he continued, "nay – a sorceress and an enchantress. Incredibly beautiful and incredibly evil, she is said to be, and lures innocent men into her clutches."

All of this was sounding dreadfully familiar, but I allowed him to continue.

"She was chained to this land by the gods, forever cursed to drift at sea with naught but the trees for companions. But, every now and again, a ship might stumble upon her island by some wicked slight of chance."

"Wait," I interrupted, "why was she cursed?"

"She was an unstoppable force – she could con even the best of men and bend them to her will. Her power needed to be restrained."

"I see – continue," I prodded eagerly.

"So, as I'd been sayin', every now and again a ship might fall upon this cursed land. When such a thing happened, the sorceress would delight in their presence. She would give 'em food and drink and refuge from the sea. At first, everythin' would be right and dandy. But this wouldn't last, for her hatred of men was stronger'n the torturous solitude."

"What did she do to them?"

"Well, she don't want to be alone, ye see, but she couldn't keep 'em as men. So she did the only thing she could do – she turned 'em to animals."

"Animals?"

"Aye, animals."

"What types of animals?"

"Oh, anythin' you can imagine – birds, monkeys, wildcats. Anythin'. But the sorceress has got to eat, aye, and there's nothin' on the island in terms o' food. So what do you think she does with said animals?"

"She eats them?" I exclaimed in horror. Though, I really _shouldn't_ have been horrified – my sisters did the very same thing and even took it a step further without the aid of transformation.

"True enough, she eats 'em. And judgin' by the lack o' wildlife around, she's hit a bit o' a dry spell…"

"Why does she hate men?"

"Well, ye see she wasn' always like this – evil, I mean. Hundreds of years ago, she fell in love with one o' the gods. He loved 'er back and lavished her with all sorts o' gifts. Not physical gifts, mind you, but gifts such'as the ability to see the future n' immortality n' the like. O' course, all this made 'er quite powerful in 'er own right. But one day, the god apparently decided that he didn' love 'er anymore and got up n' left. As ye can imagine, this didn't sit too well with the sorceress and she went mad with heartbreak. Hence, she's decided to take 'er anger out on the entire male species, as it were."

"How did Jack escape last time?"

"Well, Cap'n Jack ain't just any ordinary man. He could match even the gods with 'is wit n' trickery, and so he was an entirely suitable match for the villainous trollop. It's been said that _he _seduced _her, _the ole devil, and left before she woke; however, not before takin' a souvenir, o' course – see that bit o' lace on 'is wrist? That be from 'er very dress."

My eyes quickly shot to Jack's left wrist, and, sure enough, said grimy bit of lace was secured in view. However, I still wasn't sure how much of the story I actually believed.

"Why on _earth_ is Jack – I mean, Captain Sparrow – going back? And taking us with him! This really does seem like an awful idea… She's going to be furious!"

"Aye, indeed. Hell hath no fury like that of a woman scorned. But there be no other way fer Jack to get what 'e wants. Only _she_ knows the location o' the treasure."

"But even if she knew," I reasoned, "why would she tell him?"

"That, lassie, I do not know. We can only hope – for all our sakes – that the Cap'n 'as a plan."

I tried not to let my jaw drop. So here we were, blindly following this madman into absolute peril – into the lair of a woman who could only be punished by the _gods_ – all because Sparrow said so. It was complete and utter insanity. Plus, Sparrow didn't exactly seem like a "man with a plan," as the saying goes.

"Captain Sparrow is quite the strategizer, then? Likes to think things through before he acts?"

"Well - er - I dunno if I'd say that..." Gibbs stammered tentatively.

I knew that this was just a euphemistic way of saying that he made almost everything up as he went along. The only reason things worked out for him in the past, as far as I could see, was because he was either a genius in disguise or incredibly lucky. I favored the latter explanation, personally...

"I know it might be out of my place to say so, sir, but doesn't this seem like a bit too much of a chance to take? Surely there's another way to find the treasure, or another treasure to find?"

"This partic'ler treasure can't be matched by anythin' else in this world, at least not in Jack's eyes. And I can assure you, missy, that this be the only way. If but one thing is for certain on God's green earth, it's that the Cap'n ain't a man to take unnecessary risks."

I mulled these words over in silence. Perhaps such a statement was true, but that didn't mean Sparrow wasn't one to put _others_ in the position to take unnecessary risks...

This conversation had distracted me from paying attention to where we were going, and I had been blindly following the crewmembers in front of me. It was only when Gibbs had finished his story that I noticed the large and incredibly out-of-place stone mansion towering before us.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: There you go, guys! This chapter was pretty long, so I hope you enjoyed it. I don't want to say who they're going to see just yet, but if you're familiar with Greek mythology you might have some inkling as to who the "sorceress and enchantress" is ;)**

**Please review!  
><strong>


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! You guys are awesome :) I hope you all enjoy chapter nine!**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter IX<strong>

"What in the bloody hell is _that_?" I wondered aloud.

"Tsk tsk, is that any way for a lady to speak?" Jack scolded.

Jack. I'd begun mentally referring to him a Jack. How had this happened without my noticing? More importantly, _why_ had it happened without my noticing?

Perhaps it was just because I'd been listening to Gibbs for so long and he had been referring to him by his first name. Yes, that was it – that _had _to be it…

"I think Miss Cassie speaks for all of us, sir," Tim said shyly.

"This, my dear boy, is what we have been searching for."

"This – this is where the creature lives?" I asked nervously, turning to Gibbs.

"Aye, 'pears to be."

Without another word, Jack climbed the steps to the small patio and prepared to knock on the white, freshly painted wooden door. As his fist was raised in midair, however, I couldn't help but blurt out, "Wait!"

He turned to me expectantly, with an eyebrow raised beneath his red bandana. The others directed their attention towards me as well, which only added to my pre-existing apprehension.

"Isn't," I stuttered awkwardly, "isn't there some plan or something? What do we do in case of an emergency? I'd really like to know an escape route…"

"Aye, Cap'n, I can't 'elp but agree with the lass," Emery piped in.

"Aye," Schmitty concurred.

"Yes, that does sound rather appealing," Wentworth insisted as well (albeit a tad more eloquently than the others).

The Spritelies did not say anything out of some misplaced sense of respect for the Captain, but it was obvious that they too would have felt comforted by the knowledge of a back-up plan. They watched him intently, awaiting his response.

Sparrow glowered at me in irritation. "If the worst should happen," he began with a loud, exasperated sigh, "head to the boat."

"And what exactly be the worst, Cap'n?" Emery questioned.

"Oh, I dunno," he replied impatiently, "Say, for instance, someone _dies_ – kicks the bucket – meets 'is maker, as it were. I would consider that to be sufficiently dire as to warrant a retreat, ey? Any more questions, or are we prepared to press onwards, _ladies_?"

I was not at all calmed by this answer (nor was anyone else, as it turned out), but I was also not fond of causing conflict (despite evidence to the contrary…). So, I kept my mouth shut.

"Splendid," Jack muttered sarcastically. He then proceeded to knock on the door with utter confidence.

At that moment, I felt my entire body alight with anticipation. For my entire life, I had been a predator; but now, for the first time, I felt instead like prey.

My uneasiness must have been obvious, for Wentworth put a what-was-meant-to-be-comforting hand on my shoulder; I, in turn, surreptitiously shirked out of his grasp.

Then, the door opened.

A woman appeared.

And there she stood – astoundingly beautiful. She was completely ageless – physically, she appeared to be young; but there was something about her that was so, so ancient. Her skin, like smooth white marble, was stretched delicately across her high cheekbones, defined jaw-line, and petite nose. She was dressed in an elaborate sky-blue gown, with lace detailing down the front, at the neckline, and on only _one _of the sleeves. Her shiny, flaxen hair was pinned up in a meticulous French twist. She easily commanded everyone's unwavering attention.

But what struck me most was not her ethereal perfection; it was her unnatural irises. They were dark, pupil-less. Utterly black.

"Well," she began with an effortless aura of sophistication, "if it isn't Captain Jack Sparrow."

" 'ello, Cecily," he replied with a sly grin.

I couldn't help but gawk at how mismatched she and the pirate were – seeing them together in the way that they undoubtedly were would have been an amusing sight. It was only after the thought had irrevocably passed through my brain, however, that I realized how disturbing the notion truly was – why, in the name of land and sea, was I imagining such things? It was shameful, really – in all honesty, I hadn't known that I had such a filthy mind…

"You've brought friends," she remarked coolly.

"Aye, this is me crew."

"The _Pearl_ is doing well then, I imagine?"

"Er – well, not exactly…"

She looked him over suspiciously, before cocking a well-manicured eyebrow. "Come in," she instructed disinterestedly, "All of you."

As we all began anxiously filing into the house, I unwittingly caught her notice.

"What are _you_ doing here," she asked sweetly, playing with one of my ringlets of hair.

Startled by her sudden change in demeanor, I tentatively explained, "I joined Captain Sparrow's crew in Tortuga."

"Oh, that's not what I mean at _all_, darling."

My expression turned to one of sheer panic. She knew. She _had _to know. She wasn't a mere mortal, after all – I was sure she could sense the truth of my being.

But, luckily, she understood in an instant.

"I see," she whispered so that only I could hear, "they don't know, do they?"

I simply locked eyes with her meaningfully, before noticing that Jack was watching us like a hawk whilst pretending to be occupied with the chandelier.

"What I mean is," she continued casually, "what is a woman doing on _your_ crew, Jack?"

"Her name's Cassiopeia, if you must know – she wanted to enlist," he shrugged, making a show of turning his attentions back to us, "And, as you well know, I've always been a proponent of equal-opportunities, as it were. "

"Indeed," she commented snootily. She turned back to me and shed her snobbish air once again. "My, my, child, you poor dear. Your skin is the very same shade as your lovely hair. We must fix that. I have just the thing!"

She left us in the foyer and disappeared into one side-rooms. While she was out of sight, I heard Wentworth hiss to Sparrow, "This is impossible. There is no way that this can exist – who even built this home? And who maintains it? She _cannot_ be living on this island all by herself."

"You'd best get used to impossible things," Jack replied bluntly.

Just then, she glided back into the room. "I assure you, kind sir, that this all what it seems. We've no room for illusions here," she said with an unsettling smirk.

"Now, my love," she continued, turning to me with a vial in her hand, "you really must put this on your face. It will clear that horrid burn right up."

Wentworth shifted his weight from one foot to the other uncomfortably and Jack stepped forward. "I'm not sure if that's the best idea," he interjected hesitantly as she passed me the vial.

"Mr. Sparrow," she reproached, "what's the matter? Don't you trust me?"

He didn't answer, but instead eyed her skittishly.

"I'd _never_ harm a woman, Jack – you know that. Not one of my own. And not so soon, either – you've all only just arrived!"

This was a comforting statement (for me, at least – I imagine it was a bit unnerving for the others), but I wasn't sure if I believed her. Plus, I didn't very well want the rest of the crew to be hurt; I may have been selfish, but I didn't _completely _disregard everyone else's wellbeing.

In fact, the extent to which I cared for them was remarkable, given the fact that I was not what one would call an affectionate person. True enough, there were those on the crew that I preferred to others – the Spritelies, for example, were probably by favorites. Gibbs, too, fell in a close second (why, I did not know – there was just something about his goofy superstitions and love of storytelling that I found quite endearing. That and – oh yes – he'd _saved me_…). But to think – I'd only been with these people for less than a week, and yet I highly prioritized their safety. I supposed this would be the effect of spending time with _anyone_ incessantly, though I hadn't previously thought myself so susceptible to such frivolities of human nature. The fact that I _wasn't human_ might have had something to do with that.

"Thank you," I said to Cecily (as I think Jack had called her), uncorking the vial. It contained some sort of pungent seaweed-scented lotion, which I emptied into my palm and applied across my face and ears. Instantly, the stinging sensation that had been ravaging my skin began to subside.

At the sight of this, the Spritely boys' eyes widened in surprise and the sorceress smiled knowingly, which I took as evidence that the redness had disappeared. "I _did_ tell you it would work, my dears," she said playfully. "Now," she continued, "I do hope you'll follow me into the dining room for some refreshments – you all must be simply famished."

We proceeded cautiously as we were told.

"Captain," I whispered as we were walking, "she doesn't seem to be very angry."

"That's what worries me," he mumbled pensively through the side of his mouth.

Once in the dining room, we were seated at a gigantic mahogany table with a shimmering pair of golden candlesticks in the center.

"Now," she said as soon as we'd all settled, "you all make yourselves at home – I'll be but a moment. Let me just whip you up some hors d'oeuvres!"

I looked to Jack, who was seated at one of the heads of the table and tried to gauge his feelings on the situation. I was almost the furthest away from him – Cecily had seated my next to where I believe she intended to sit, and I therefore had a difficult time reading his facial expression. However, I _was_ able to notice him soundlessly mouth to everyone, "Don't eat anything!" which seemed to imply that we were in some sort of impending peril.

My crewmates acknowledged this command, apart from Emery and Schmitty, who were too busy marveling at the vast collection of floral oil paintings displayed around the room. I hoped that they would be swift enough to figure this out for themselves (Jack _had_ warned us earlier, after all), but I had a nagging fear that I was to be disappointed.

Soon, she returned with a silver tray of food.

"As you might imagine," she prattled, "I eat a lot of coconuts – I hope this doesn't displease any of you. I'm embarrassed to admit it, but I'm a little short on supplies…"

There was an awkward lull during which no one dared respond, but Tom apparently could not tolerate the void in conversation and bashfully replied, "It's quite all right, m'am. I'm sure they're delicious."

She beamed at him, and for a fleeting moment her teeth appeared distressingly pointed.

"Cecily," Jack butted in, "Would you mind if I spoke with you in private? I won't be but a minute." I wasn't sure if he really wanted to talk to her, or if he wanted to give us an opportunity to dispose of the food without actually eating it. Perhaps it was a bit of both.

"Of course not, Jack." Turning to me, she said, "My child, will you be a dear and mind the boys while I'm gone? Thank you ever so much…" With that, she and Jack disappeared into what I presumed to be the kitchen.

As soon as they were out of sight, I pounced on the appetizers and shoved them into my pockets – the rest of the crew followed my example, until all the food was gone.

However, I soon heard Jack very clearly and jumped at the sound – how could they possibly have been back so soon?

I looked around manically, however, and saw no evidence of either his or Cecily's presence.

"You a'right?" Tim asked, staring at me suspiciously.

"Hm? Oh yes, yes I'm fine…" I replied, "There was just – there's a sort of buzzing in my ears. I think I may just be tired…"

"_Firstly_," I heard Jack's voice say, _"I'd like to apologize for my piggish and irreverent behavior the last time I was here – I'm truly and deeply appalled by my own actions, and I assure you that I have matured in a most considerable sense in the period since we have last spoken."_

"_Oh Jack,"_ Cecily replied, _"Please don't make the mistake of thinking you're the first man to have left me alone in my bed. And don't make the mistake of thinking _you_ could hurt me, either, my dear. You're nothing but a grain of sand on the beach that is the universe."_

_Why could I hear them_, I wondered desperately. And then I recalled the lotion Cecily had given me – I'd put it on my ears. Perhaps it was affecting my hearing... But didn't she know that it would cause such a thing to happen?

Unless, of course, she intended for me to hear all this… But why?

"_Brilliant! I am immensely glad that there are no hard feelings between us, then."_

"_Hm. Why have you come here, Jack?"_

"_Well, you see, it's about the _Pearl_…"_

"_Isn't it always?"_

"_Yes, well, she's in a bit of a predicament…"_

"_You haven't sunk her again, have you?"_

"_No, no, that's not it – well, not exactly. Perhaps it'd be best if I just showed you…"_

There was a rustling, which I took to be Jack digging through his pockets.

"_My, my, that's very strange," _said Cecily.

"_Aye, I was hopin' you might know how to… mitigate the situation, as it were."_

"_I may know a way, but why should I help you? There may not be any hard feelings between us, but that doesn't mean I'll help you without a price. Really, Jack, do I look like the type of woman to help someone out of the goodness of her heart? What's in it for me?"_

"_Er – what would you like?"_

"_I want the girl."_

"_The girl?"_

"_Yes, Cassiopeia."_

"_Why?" _I could practically _hear_ him narrowing his eyes distrustfully.

"_The reason does not matter. Do we or do we not have an accord?"_

"_Alright, I s'pose. Ye can suit yourself, but she's really not worth anything…" _

That bastard! How could he? Who did he think he was, trading me like some sack of coins?

"_I'll be the judge of that," _she responded cryptically, _"Anyway, first I'd like you to tell me what you know about these… circumstances. How did the ship come to be like this?"_

"_Aren't you supposed to be the one telling me?"_

"_Oh, I already know. I just like to make you feel inferior before helping you, is all."_

"_Charming. Well," _he replied with an impatient sigh, _"Blackbeard did this with some sort of voodoo magic, I wager – or his quartermaster did it. I dunno, does it really matter how it happened? I just want 'er back to normal…"_

"_How he did it has everything to do with how to get her back. You say his quartermaster might have had a hand in it?"_

"_Aye, he was big into the supernatural and such – 'e was one of ole Beardie's poor zombie-fied wretches, if I remember correctly."_

"_I know of Edward Teach's quartermaster, of course,"_ she said, _"Surely you must have realized that he was not just some simple voodoo priest? Where else have you seen such a connection to the other world? Because you _have _indeed seen it before, Jack, I know you have. Tia Dalma, perhaps? A goddess bound in human form? Really, I'd hoped you weren't so ignorant to that which is right in front of you… But back to the story – the quartermaster can predict things before they happen – he is a witness to fate, you see. He was the source of Blackbeard's power, a member of a race now lost to the world."_

"_The quartermaster was the reason Blackbeard was able to lead his own ship in such a way and harness those of others," _she continued, "_Edward Teach did not simply stumble upon his quartermaster. He found him. He sought him out. He went to the deepest depths of the ocean to retrieve the thing that would make him most powerful – in fact, it was I who showed him the way. He came to me and asked how to rule the seas. And I told him. To restore your ship, Jack, you need to use the very same magic that destroyed it."_

"_And what, precisely, might you be referring to, ey? Are you sayin' that I need to find the quartermaster and force him to change it back? Because if that's the case…"_

"_If only it were that simple… No, you must go directly to the source. You must go where Blackbeard went all those years ago."_

"_You mean – " _Jack seemed to have come to an epiphany, but Cecily was not about to let him steal her thunder.

"_You've heard the stories, I'm sure. You of all people must know – you who has seen everything. You, a child of the sea… Blackbeard's quartermaster is from a race both curse and blessed by the gods. A race that was once so powerful they threatened the authority of Zeus himself and needed to be punished."_

"_At – "_

"_Yes, I'm talking about Atlantis, Jack."_

* * *

><p><strong>AN: For those of you who guessed that Cecily was meant to be Circe in the last chapter, you are correct! I realize that I changed her story a bit, but they certainly changed Calypso/Tia Dalma's in the movies so I figured no one would mind too much.**

**Just as a side-note, I'm going to be away for a while so there won't be any updates until at least next week - sorry!  
><strong>

**Please review and let me know what you think!**_  
><em>


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Hello again, everyone - I'm back! I hope you're all enjoying the story so far, and of course I'd like to thank all the reviewers from the bottom of my heart. I can't believe we're already on chapter ten! And there still such a long way to go...  
><strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter X<strong>

"_Atlantis?" _I heard Jack ask.

"_Yes, Atlantis. That is where you must go to retrieve your ship. The city has not been destroyed, despite what the myths might have led you to believe. The race of the Atlantians is far too ingenious to let a little thing like a sunken island hinder their progress. No, no, they have adapted. They thrive there, at the bottom of the sea. It may interest you to know Edward Teach's quartermaster was once the chief of the Atlanian peoples, before he was enslaved. Another has taken his place. You must remember, Jack, that Atlantis teeters on the brink between this world and the next. It is only fitting, then, that what you should need is that which keeps all things bound to this world."_

"_And what might that be?"_

"_One drop of blood. Just one drop of blood from the chief of the Atlantians will bring your beloved _Pearl _back into existence."_

"_And just how exactly does one go about finding the lost city of Atlantis? Call me naïve, but I wasn't under the impression that it was a frequently traveled route, love."_

"_I believe you have your compass for that. Now that you know what you're looking for, it should lead you to your destination."_

And then, just like that, the conversation had ended. I had just received/overheard much more information than I could possibly register.

Number one: I was, essentially, being traded for a ship.

Number two: the "_treasure"_ had been Jack's ship all along. Not gold. Not silver. Wood and sails.

And number three, despite its misleading title, was the most important: I was not going to stand for this. I was _not_ about to allow my life be thrown into the hands of some absurd pirate and a murderous sorceress.

But that meant I couldn't say anything. Not yet.

I wasn't stupid – I knew that Cecily had most definitely wanted me to hear that entire conversation. But I _didn't_ know why she wanted to keep me here. I didn't know why she wanted me to turn against Jack, and I didn't know why _he_ had so heedlessly agreed to leave me here with a woman who was, for all intents and purposes, a cannibal.

I needed to get off this island. _Then_ I could worry about getting away from Jack. But, for the time being, I would just have to suffer his lunacy.

"Are you sure you're well?" Tim hissed to me as we heard Cecily and the Captain start walking back into the dining room.

"Yes, I'm fine. Why do you ask?" I asked with mock-confusion.

"You've just stared into nothingness for nearly five minutes and no one was able to get your attention," he accused, "I wouldn't exactly call that 'fine.'"

"Sorry, I was just thinking," I whispered back.

Before he had time to ask any more prying questions, Sparrow and Cecily had returned. The first thing the sorceress did before she took a seat was lock eyes with me mischievously; yes, there was no doubting it – she'd intended for me to listen in on that conversation without Jack's knowledge.

"You've finished all the food," she commented.

"Aye, t'was very good, Miss," Tim said. I was somewhat surprised by how convincing he sounded, actually… Perhaps he was learning a thing or two from Sparrow, after all.

She glanced at him stoically, before tuning to me and asking, "Did you have anything to eat, my child?"

"No," I said, "the boys finished it all off before I got the chance – but don't worry, I wasn't that hungry." I don't know why I lied. Perhaps I'd said it to make her think that I was on her side – that I could be an ally in her vendetta against males. Or perhaps it'd been because I didn't know what affect the food was meant to have and didn't want to risk it being obvious that I indeed hadn't eaten anything.

Whatever the case, she seemed to believe me. "Boys will be boys," she sighed lightly. However, while the comment itself seemed to have been spoken in jest, there was some underlying tone in her voice that was sinister.

"Well," she continued, "Now that you've all been fed, I expect you should like to stay the night?"

"No," Jack interjected hastily, "I really think we ought to get going. We've a long journey ahead of us, after all – you've even said so yourself."

"Yes, but it's already dark outside. Now is hardly any time to start sailing, Jack – you know that."

The first part of what she said struck me immediately – she was right, it _was _dark outside. But the strange thing was, I never remembered the sun setting; and I'd only noticed _after_ she'd mentioned it.

This caused me to become mildly panicked – we'd arrived on the island at no later than six o'clock in the morning, and all we'd done was hike through the forest and sit at the dining table. There was absolutely no way we'd been here for an entire day, and yet nature was proving otherwise.

"You must stay the night," she repeated forcefully, "I _insist_."

"Well, I s'pose I wouldn't want to deny the lady's wishes," Jack gave in bitterly.

"Fantastic! I have plenty of room, as you can probably tell. I do _adore_ visitors," she rambled on merrily, "Here, come with me – I'll show you all to your rooms."

We did as was instructed, and followed her up the wide spiral staircase in the foyer.

"I'm going to have to pair you off, I'm afraid," she said as we started down that hallway. We stopped abruptly in front of the first bedroom. "You two twins can stay here," she ordered. The Spritelies glanced at Jack restlessly, who raised his eyebrows as if to say, _"What are you looking at me for?" _They then looked at me, and I mouthed "Go," to them before they had the opportunity to insult Cecily with their hesitance.

When the boys were safely behind closed doors, she commented, "You know, I've just realized – there's an even number of you."

"Is that a problem?" Jack asked uninterestedly, inspecting his blackened fingernails.

"Well, yes – we've a lady in our midst, and it wouldn't be proper to ask her to share a room with any of you… men."

"It's fine," I insisted quickly, "I stay with the crew back on the ship. It's really not an issue."

"No, no, don't be ridiculous. We're not _animals_, after all. I'm sure we'll be able to come up with something. Perhaps we can have three people to one of the rooms… I've got it! You two – " she said to Emery and Schmitty, "You stay here. And you _three_," she said to Gibbs, Marty, and Cotton, "you stay in the room across the hall."

That left Jack and Wentworth. I grinned despite myself – I knew that Jack would most _definitely_ not be pleased with these arrangements, though he might not show it. At this point, any discomfort he experienced, however minor, was a joy to me.

"You two," she said to the remaining men, "will stay next to the lovely Cassiopeia."

When they were secured in their own room, she led me into the one next door. However, she followed me inside and shut the door behind her. "I'd like to have a word with you, if you don't mind," she said silkily.

"Alright?"

"My child, I really hope we can move past these pretenses," she started, "I'm well aware of the fact that you overheard me and Jack speaking."

"I did," I allowed guardedly.

"You realize that I intended for that to happen, yes?"

"Indeed, I do."

"You're probably wondering, then, what purpose it served."

"I am…"

"Well, I'll tell you – Jack Sparrow is not the type of man any woman – any _young _woman, especially – should get entangled with. He's trouble – absolute trouble. And I can't stand to think of him hurting you… Because he will, he surely will, if given the chance."

"I suppose I just shouldn't give him the chance, then…"

She smiled sneakily at me. "Yes, _or_ you could merely avoid him altogether. You heard what he said – how willingly he ridded himself of you, all for the mere _location_ of a ship."

"Why do you want me to stay here?" I asked abruptly, not wishing to dwell on my own irrelevance to Mr. Sparrow.

"I don't know," she began slowly, "company, perhaps? No, but you're clever – much too clever to believe that, so I might as well tell you the truth."

I was not quite convinced, but I listened nevertheless.

"You must have noticed, no doubt, the similarities between us? The similarities between me and your species."

"I have."

"You – you are a product of me. Your species is a product of me. I willed you into existence, my dear. You are, for all intents and purposes, my child. That's why I was so thrilled when you came here – why I didn't bother wasting my time attacking Sparrow."

My eyes widened with shock; _she_ – this horrid woman – was my _mother_? "You created mermaids?" I asked skeptically. Mermaids. It felt very odd to hear the word aloud; the mere action of saying what I truly was made it all seem much more real.

"Yes, I did – well, in a sense. Mermaids, as you are apparently unaware, are born when infant girls are claimed by the sea. _I_, being the pragmatic woman that I am, saw it as a waste for these lovely children to simply perish in shipwrecks and such – some are even _thrown _into the sea by their unwed mothers, can you imagine? So, because of my resourcefulness, mermaids were born. But I wasn't allowed to interact with my _children_, you see. This island, as you may well have noticed, doesn't drift into mermaid territory, darling. The only way I would ever be able to see one of my creations was if _she_ came to _me_. This would be a very rare occurrence, obviously, so the gods more or less just assumed it would never happen. And then you came along," she continued, "My, you are very strange, aren't you?"

"Why did you create us?" I questioned.

"Well, if _I'm_ stuck on this island, who's going to carry out my revenge? Two or three ships a year won't do at all. _That _is why your species hates men, dear. Because I made it so."

"If you hate Sparrow so much and I am basically just an extension of your rage," I reasoned harshly, "why not let me go with them? Why not let me destroy him?"

"Because, my child, Jack Sparrow is no ordinary man. In fact, no man – ordinary _or _extraordinary – could go through what Mr. Sparrow has gone through without being _changed; _it is simply impossible – the supernatural leaves a sort of residue, as it were. You cannot destroy him. _I _could not destroy him the first time around – granted, of course, I didn't try very hard… But that's beside the point. I'd like you to stay here – no, I _insist _you stay here. Trust me, I haven't forgotten about my revenge on Sparrow – I'll see to it that he's punished by keeping you here. He'd be far better off with you with him, especially on the mission he intends to undertake. In fact, it might cost him his life _not_ to have you…"

"But I don't want to stay here," I complained boldly, "I don't want to be all alone – I want to see the world! That's why I left Whitecap Bay in the first place…"

"You haven't any choice in the matter. I'm sorry if it seemed as if I was giving you options, but I am not. You are staying here, and that is that. Good night."

With that, she spun on her heel towards the door. Before she left, however, she turned to me and said, "And don't even think about telling anyone about this conversation or running off – if you attempt any such thing, I'll see to it that the entire crew – including and especially your two identical friends – is killed." Then, she slammed the door behind her.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: So, what do you all think? Do you believe that Jack really left her all on her own? Or does he have a plan? It _would_ be very Jack Sparrow-esque to trade a woman for a ship... Review and let me know what you think! :)**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! I hope you all like this one :)**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter XI<strong>

I sat on the edge of my cream-colored bed, utterly in shock. I felt betrayed. I felt manipulated. I felt as if I had been cruelly robbed of all my free will, and as if I'd been entirely stripped of my independence.

I could not allow this to happen. I would not stand by and let them treat me like a piece of currency. I was – I was a living being, not some inanimate object to be bought and sold.

But how? How I could I prevent this horrid injustice from transpiring?

She'd said I was clever, but I wasn't – I wasn't nearly as intelligent as I needed to be in order to come up with some elaborate escape plan.

I needed Jack. Whether or not I wanted to admit it, I needed his help. I'd not seen any real proof of his extraordinary reputation, but now was his chance to truly demonstrate his prowess – to show me that he really was the man he claimed to be.

But he wouldn't help me – he was the one who had gotten me into this situation in the first place!

And plus, Cecily had warned me not to tell Jack or anyone else, and I did want to risk defying her – that lotion she'd given me might have allowed her to hear _my_ conversations, for all I knew.

So I would wait – I would wait for the crew to leave tomorrow, when the danger of her killing them had passed. Then, I would swim to safety.

It seemed reasonable. It seemed sound.

It seemed too easy.

But what other choice did I have, really?

I was not convinced by what Cecily had told me – I did not believe that she simply wanted me here for companionship. If she truly was anything like a mermaid, I knew for a fact that she did not feel any sort of maternal attachment to me – she _could _not.

Perhaps she was lonely. Perhaps she did indeed want company – but that could not be the sole reason.

And then I remembered what she'd said about Jack – what she'd said about him being worse off _without_ me. What did that mean? Was her keeping me here some sort of form of revenge? I couldn't possibly see any way in which I could or _would_ be of use to Mr. Sparrow, so her claim seemed ridiculous.

The fact of the matter was, however, that I didn't care about either Cecily _or_ Jack. I was not going to carry out her stupid settling of scores, and I was certainly not going to help that wretched pirate.

One thing was for certain, though: I was going to be on my own from now on. Which was a good thing; I'd always been best on my own. Others –mermaid or human, apparently – couldn't be trusted; I'd learned this the hard way.

However, I had to admit, I _was_ going to miss the Spritelies and I truly hoped that no ill fate would befall them.

With this in mind, I quietly slunk out of my bedroom and made my way towards the twins' door – if I was never to see them again, I could at least say goodbye.

I knocked lightly on their door, and Tom answered.

"What's the matter, Miss Cassie," he asked in bewilderment.

"I've just come to inform you," I began with a heavy heart, "that I will not be leaving with you all tomorrow."

"Why not!" Tim demanded.

I unhappily noticed that his disappointment actually pained me. Never in a million years did I think I'd grow _attached._

"I – I must stay here."

"But why?"

"I cannot tell you, just know that I must. You all will just have to find the treasure without me, I'm sorry."

"_She's_ not makin' you stay here, is she?" Tom asked.

I contemplated telling them the truth, but I didn't want to put them in danger. "No," I lied, "I am doing this on my own accord. It's very complicated, but I beg you to understand – you'll have to just trust me, my friends."

"Have you told anyone else?" Tim questioned.

"No, and you mustn't either. If anyone asks about me tomorrow, just tell them that I decided to stay, alright?"

"But I don't think anyone'll believe that, Cass," Tim insisted. "Why would anyone want to stay here unless they had to?"

"Please, for you own safety, I pray you won't ask any more questions."

"What about Captain Sparrow – whatever problem you're having, I'm sure he'll be able to help – he _is_ Captain Jack Sparrow, after all…"

"What does that even mean?" I demanded exasperatedly, losing control over my frustration, "I've yet to see him accomplish any impressive feat."

"Yes, but the stories – " Tom started.

"Could be just that – stories. Legends, fables – nothing more. How do you know that anything he says is true? How do you know he's not just a madman with a wild imagination, hm?"

Both the Spritely boys looked very dejected, like children who'd just witnessed the destruction of their favorite toy.

"I'm sorry to have shattered the illusion," I began less heatedly, "But I think you'll be better off if you're a bit more wary of him. I'm just trying to help."

"Perhaps you'll reconsider…" Tom said quietly.

"Look, I just came to say goodbye," I replied equally quietly. I hadn't come to fight with them; I just wanted to make sure that they would be safe. I'd never had brothers, but I imagined that this might be how I would have felt if I did.

"We'll miss you, Cassie," Tim said.

"I'll miss you, too."

I didn't know if the Mermaid's Kiss would work if I was on land and didn't kiss their lips, but I figured it was worth a shot either way; so, I gave them both I light peck on the cheek.

"Goodbye," I said sadly.

"Goodnight," they replied sullenly in unison, softly shutting the door behind me.

I turned around and nearly jumped out of my skin. Standing before me were Schmitty and Emery.

"You two sure gave me a fright!" I exclaimed with a laugh.

However, as I got a closer look at them, I noticed that something wasn't right – their eyes were black, just like Cecily's.

They didn't say anything in response, but simply stared at me blankly.

"Are you all right…?" I asked hesitantly.

"Miss Cecily says yer not to leave yer room," Schmitty said mechanically.

"Yes, well, I was only saying goodnight to Tim and Tom," I replied.

"You ain't s'posed ta talk to no one," Emery said.

Suddenly, they both lunged at me and grabbed one of my wrists.

"What're you doing!" I tried to exclaim – however, Schmitty had covered my mouth with his hand, preventing any sound from escaping.

"Now, now," he said softly, "wouldn' want ye wakin' none o' the crew, would we?"

Then I realized – they'd eaten the food. They must have snuck it after they had gotten back to their room…

As the two men dragged me back to my bedroom, I struggled against their grip. I needed to warn someone that they were under her spell – maybe there was a way to break it – maybe there was a way they could still be saved.

But they were both much stronger than I was.

Luckily, however, I wasn't _completely _defenseless on land. My distress had caused my canine teeth to elongate into fangs, and I bit down hard on Schmitty's hand. I got a mouthful of his metallic blood, which I took as a sign that I had sufficiently injured him.

He tore his hand away rapidly and cradled it against his chest.

"Bloody wench!" he growled, hitting me with the back of his good hand.

I hissed in pain and felt with my tongue that he had split my bottom lip.

"Please," I begged, "it's me, Cassie. Look at me – this isn't you!"

They did indeed look at me, but their pupil-less eyes held no sign of recognition.

"Ye stay here, where no one can 'ear ye," Emery ordered emotionlessly, throwing me into my room.

As I hit the wooden floor, he slammed the door behind me. I arose quickly and fiddled with the handle, but it was clear that I was locked in. I threw myself on the bed and let out a frustrated snarl while rubbing my now-bruised cheek.

What was I going to do? As if things could get any worse…

I went to the wall, which was shared with Jack and Wentworth's room.

"Captain! Peter!" I shouted, banging against the ornate beige wallpaper. "Something's wrong with Emery and Schmitty!"

I was met with no response, so I desperately scanned the room in search of something to pick the lock with. I hadn't any luck, so I instead sought something to break the doorknob with.

Eventually, I found a heavy brass candlestick on the nightstand and decided that it was a suitable utensil. I carried it over to the door and banged down hard on the doorknob.

About a half an hour later, after many, many tiring blows, I finally broke it. The muscles in my arms were burning painfully and I weakly pushed the door open, only to find an eerily empty hallway. I tiptoed over to Jack and Wentworth's room and quickly forced my way inside. However, much to my surprise, there was no one in sight. Now thoroughly confused, I went back into the hallway and tried another door, only to find the same. I opened all the doors in the hallway until reaching the Spritelies', which was vacant as well.

While inside their room, I felt a light breeze pass by and realized that the window was open. It then dawned on me – the only possible explanation was that they had all left.

And they hadn't even _tried_ to warn me. I felt anger and some other strange emotion bubble within me and clutched the windowsill until my knuckles were white.

It'd really happened. They'd really left me.

Perhaps Cecily _had _been right about men, after all. Perhaps they really were thoughtless and cruel.

I understood (using the term loosely) why Jack and the Spritelies had abandoned me. But what about Gibbs? What about Wentworth? Surely _valiant _Wentworth would have at least _attempted_ to free me…? Was I really so disposable?

Well, if they were gone, I supposed that meant that I was free to make my escape, too.

I didn't know _how_ exactly the Spritelies had escaped from their window (we were on the second story of the house, after all), but I began to fashion a makeshift rope using the sheets from the bed, all the while contemplating my unfortunate fate.

I tried not to allow myself to become to bothered by the circumstances. My heart was overflowing with a very bizarre sensation, which I suspected might be… _hurt_.

But the idea – it was preposterous. I couldn't be _hurt_ by these petty humans. They were nothing – no, they were less than nothing. They weren't even worth the time it would take for me to track them down and kill them.

Never in my life had I felt this way – so furious and so sad at the same time. It was extremely unsettling.

But my musings were interrupted by a very strange sound coming from outside the doorway.

At first, it sounded like – like a _growl_. But I knew that couldn't be right.

However, I quickly spun around and couldn't believe my eyes.

There, standing in the doorway, were two creatures – two _beasts_.

One was a black panther with shining eyes and teeth, and the other was some sort of shaggy, sandy-colored dog.

The panther bared its white fangs and roared at me, and its canine companion snarled and snapped its foaming jaws.

I could only stand stock-still and marvel at the impossibility of the situation, until I realized the indescribable truth.

The two animals were Schmitty and Emery.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Please review, nothing makes me happier!**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Thanks so much to those of you who reviewed the last chapter! I hope everyone enjoys this one :)**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter XII<strong>

I let out a shrill, unearthly shriek, causing all of the glass in the room to shatter immediately. The sound forced both animals to howl in agony and press their ears flat against their skulls; the panther hissed with a new ferocity.

I was done for.

I fumbled with the hilt of my cutlass, before clumsily removing the blade from its sheath. My hands were shaking with terror, and I knew that the weapon wouldn't do me any good. This was it. This was the end. I felt silly and pathetic – I'd lasted less than a month outside of my shoal, and now my ill-thought-out scheme was about to meet its abrupt and painful demise.

They say that, before death, your life flashes in front of your very eyes. In my case, however, all I could see were images of what my life _could _have been. Of lost potential. Of missed opportunities. And it was heart-wrenching because I knew nothing of love, I knew nothing of loss, and – more importantly – I knew nothing of the world. I would die, purposeless. Meaningless. Without any accomplishments to speak of.

And no one would weep for me as I bled to death on this cold wooden floor.

In one swift motion, the ebony creature had become airborne. I scrunched my eyes shut, held out my sword, and prayed to some probably-nonexistent god for salvation.

However, when I was absolutely sure that I was going to be devoured, nothing happened. I opened one eye anxiously and saw that Wentworth had come out of nowhere (through the window, I later realized) and skewered the animal on his cutlass. Red blood flowed from its chest, and he struggled to disentangle himself from the carnage.

"Peter?" I demanded in disbelief.

"You didn't think we'd really leave you behind, did you?" he said breathlessly.

But I had thought that, I really had. While I'd previously been very wary of Wentworth, my heart was now filled with affection for him. He'd come back for me – he was the only one. He cared.

"That was Schmitty!" I exclaimed in horror, trying to mask the warm surge of emotion in the pit of my stomach.

His eyes widened, and he looked at the feline remorsefully. "Well, it was you or him, I suppose…" he commented in attempt to ease his guilt.

The dog, Emery, pawed at the floor and whined at the sight of its lifeless companion.

"C'mon," Wentworth urged, "We have to go!" He grabbed at my wrist and tugged me towards the empty window, but I stopped him.

"What about Emery," I insisted, "We can't just leave him here like this – he'll be eaten!"

"He'll try to kill us!"

Perhaps he was right, but I remained un-swayed. At least a dog was a bit more manageable than a panther.

He sighed impatiently, tore off a piece of his waistcoat, and started towards the animal.

Emery let out a low, resonating growl, but Wentworth gripped him by the scruff of the neck and fashioned a muzzle out of the strip from his clothing. Once the snapping jaws were secured, he hoisted the dog up under his neck and haunches and carried him towards the window.

"Use the bed-sheets," he instructed.

I did as he told; I tied one end of the makeshift rope to the bedpost and threw the other over the windowsill. He indicated that I should climb down first, which I did. The surface of the wall wasn't smooth, which explained how Wentworth was able to climb up in the first place. Once firmly rooted on the grass below, I watched anxiously as he descended with one hand wrapped around the sheets and the other pressing dog-Emery to his hip.

As soon as he hit the ground, an earth-shattering scream engulfed the island; it was Cecily.

"Run," Wentworth commanded bluntly.

I didn't need any other encouragement, and run I did; we both sprinted into the forest.

"Where are the others?" I yelled into the wind.

"On the beach. They've pushed the ship back into the water and are preparing to set sail as we speak."

I opened my mouth to respond, but just then I felt something wrap around my ankle and pull me to the undergrowth. I looked down to see that a vine from one of the trees had lassoed me and begun to drag me backwards.

I let out a sharp scream, and watched as the same happened to Wentworth.

Thinking quickly, I took out my cutlass and sliced the vine. The offending party let out a sort of hissing sound; I helped Wentworth as well, whose hands were occupied with Emery.

However, no sooner had we risen from the ground than our limbs were bombarded once again. I began thrashing my blade wildly in an attempt to free both my crewmate and myself.

Eventually, after much exertion, we stumbled onto the sandy beach with naught but a few scratches and bruises. I expected to be met with the smiling faces of the rest of the crew, but was instead confronted with a longboat on an otherwise empty shoreline.

"They're already aboard," Wentworth explained at the sight of my crestfallen expression.

I squinted and saw that the ship's lanterns were lit, but I couldn't make out anything else in the darkness.

There was another jarring screech coming from the direction of the mansion, which prompted us to swiftly hop into the boat and begin rowing enthusiastically. Dog-Emery, all the while, growled steadily through his clamped teeth. The waves were more tumultuous than I remembered as we frantically made our way to the _Poseidon's Jewel._ However, I chose not to dwell on this and hoped desperately that a significant amount of water would not find its way into the small longboat; I could not afford to be revealed in front of Wentworth, that's for sure…

Once the pair of us had climbed over the side of the ship, we assisted the crew in hauling the smaller boat up and securing it in its proper position.

"What's with the mutt?" Marty demanded after everyone had caught his breath. It was clear that the rest of the crew was already sufficiently fatigued from pushing the ship off of the beach.

"It's Emery," I said simply, "He must have eaten the food."

"Where's Scmitty?" Tim asked gravely, clearly dreading the answer – his eyes were glued to Wentworth's bloodied sword.

The other man merely shook his head solemnly, causing some of the sailors to remove their hats and bow their heads.

"Cap'n, she's not happy," Tom commented after another shriek rang out across the island.

"I can see that," he replied with a sniff. "Men," he ordered loudly, "It is of the utmost importance that we make haste in departing this wretched speck of land, savvy?"

The crew, however, did not need to be told this and began independently pulling the sails to catch the wind, but to no avail. The sails luffed uselessly, and the ship appeared to be perpetually in irons.

"Mother Nature seems to be goin' against us, Cap'n," Gibbs said urgently.

"Bring out the oars," Sparrow ordered, "She's controlling the seas and winds around the island. The only way we'll escape is if we take matters into our own hands."

We all did was we were told, and began rowing furiously with two people per oar. Things were progressing rather unimpressively, but our main goal was to simply free ourselves from Cecily's domain; our poor form, humiliating though it was, would have to be overlooked by the Captain's acidic sense of humor, at least for the time being. I looked up at Jack, who was standing listlessly at the helm with a slight wince displayed across his features, and saw that he was physically struggling to bite back a slew of sarcastic comments.

I almost found it amusing, but then I remembered what a bastard he was.

In all the excitement, water had begun pouring over the sides of the ship. It took all the strength I had not so flee below deck and feign aqua-phobia or some such ridiculousness; I instead discretely attempted to dodge the droplets whilst remaining seated. I doubted that such a small amount of water would set off my transformation, but I wasn't fond of risking it.

Eventually, a miraculous gust of wind inflated the mainsail and everyone – including the unflappable Captain Sparrow – let out a sigh of relief.

"We've made it!" Tom declared joyously.

Gibbs, however, let out a cynical bark of laughter. "Ye don't think we'll be getting off that easy, do ye son? Nay, the worst has yet to come…" he croaked ominously.

Mildly frightened by this, I turned my attention again to Sparrow; he did in fact seem a bit preoccupied, and was staring contemplatively into the abyssal horizon.

At the notion of more trouble "yet to come," I shuddered involuntarily and unknowingly prompted Wentworth to sling his arm around me protectively. This time, however, I did not squirm out of his grasp. On the contrary – I lingered there for a few moments, before the physical contact became intolerable and I had to excuse myself.

I felt strangely for Wentworth. True enough, he was goofy and occasionally a nuisance. But he cared for me – more than anyone else on the ship, evidently, and he'd been the only one to return to my aid. Insufferable or not, that made him infinitely more appealing in my eyes; however, it also made me feel as if I _owed_ him my affection, which was a bit off-putting. I did not _love _him, of course, nor was I even infatuated with him. I did _like_ him, however…

Pushing these frivolous thoughts out of my mind, however, I stormed up to the helm and presented myself in front of Sparrow.

"I'd like to have an audience with you," I stated aggressively, "Now."

He eyed me uncertainly, but consented, "If you insist…" He then turned to one side, bowed at the waist, and held out his arm in a faux-gentlemanly fashion. "Ladies first," he said superciliously, flashing me his sly and infuriating gold-toothed grin.

I scowled at him, unfazed by his absurdity, but proceeded down the staircase and into the captain's quarters. The crew observed with spectacle with unbridled curiosity.

As soon as we were both inside the room and the door had been shut, I spun around, cornered him against the wall, and pressed my index finger to his semi-exposed chest in one fowl swoop. "You _lying_, _skiving_, villainous, lily_-_livered son of a one-eyed, slack-jawed, bottom-dwelling _eel_!" I accused wrathfully.

He raised one eyebrow, impressed by my colorful insult. "Well _that's_ a new one…" he remarked.

"Did you honestly think that she wouldn't tell me what you did? How you _traded_ me for a _ship_? Hm?"

"Traded is such a strong word…"

"And that's precisely what you did!"

"Look, love, if you're so upset, then why'd you come back?"

"As if I had any other choice! I'd rather be here than _dead_ – but just barely."

"You wound me with your harsh words," he said dryly. "Is there any particular reason – other than to insult me – that you wanted to speak with me?"

"I want to make sure you're aware that I know _exactly _what you're up to and I heard everything Cecily told you. If you don't want the rest of the crew finding out where we're _really_ headed, I suggest you start treating me with a bit more respect," I said confidently, tossing a section of my waist-length hair over my shoulder.

However, instead of looking shocked or scared or even _vaguely_ surprised, Sparrow had an expression of sheer amusement plastered across his obnoxious face. He somehow managed to switch our positions, so that it was _he_ who had _me_ pinned against the wall. Our proximity was disquieting.

"It's never really been a matter o' respect, darlin'," he said with his maddening smirk; his foul breath invaded my nostrils, and I turned my head to escape the stench. "You may think – incorrectly, at that – you're the winner in this little episode and that _you're_ the one holding all the cards, as it were; but I can assure you that blackmailing me is in fact _not_ a wise decision. Cecily wanted you for a reason, love. I knew there was much, _much_ more to you than you let on, and my run in with that wicked sorceress just confirmed my suspicions… So, I think it ought to be _you_ who treats _me _with a bit more respect, love."

A heavy beat of silence passed, during which neither of us moved. Instead we stood chest-to-chest, his dark eyes calculatingly searing my light ones.

"You're despicable," I spat eventually, failing to construct any other sort of articulate response.

He backed away abruptly; "Ah, now that one I _have_ heard before."

I glared at him fiercely and said, "I hardly think now's the time to jest, _Sparrow_. One of your men is dead, and another might as well be. Hell, _I_ was almost killed, too. Perhaps you do not enjoy spilling blood with your own sword, but lives have been lost because of you and there's no denying it. However bad you think the information you have regarding me is, just remember that."

This, to my astonishment, seemed to have struck a chord; Jack turned away from me and left the room without any form of witty retort. Good. He _should_ feel guilty. For someone who appeared to despise bloodshed so much, he certainly had a detached way of dealing with it.

What bothered me the most, though, was that there was a nagging in the back of my mind telling me that I had been too brutal. That I'd been out of line for speaking to him in such a way. But why? I'd merely stated the facts. Plus, Sparrow deserved much worse than a simple verbal assault after what he'd put me through. I was entirely justified, and I knew it.

So why didn't it feel that way?

Damn that Jack Sparrow, damn him to the deepest circle of hell.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: So, we're finally seeing the first glimmer of romantic tension between Cassie and Jack! I'm trying to go really slow with it (Jack's a huge flirt, but to get him to genuinely care for someone is a harrowing feat), so I'd love to hear what you all think of the pace. Pretty pretty please review! Honestly, it's your input that keeps me going :)**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Thanks very much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! I hope you all enjoy this one :D**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter XIII<strong>

The word livid did not even begin to describe the emotion I was feeling. What had that conversation even meant? Did he know what I was? If he _did_ know, then why couldn't he have been direct and told me outright? He wouldn't even stoop so low as to threaten me properly.

And yet something about him was fascinating. Utterly fascinating.

It made absolutely no sense that someone in his position – a _pirate_ – should be so intelligent – so conniving. And yet he was.

And why was he not cruel? On any other ship, my behavior would have earned at least a lashing under even the best of circumstances; but Sparrow seemed to _enjoy_ my insolence. He was not authoritative. He was neither frightening nor intimidating. And yet he still had the respect of his crew, and people were inclined to listen to him. It was illogical. It was irrational.

I _had_ angered him, though – or I thought I had. The way in which he sulked out of the room implied such. This suggested that he was indeed _human_ at the very least, but that's about it. Though, I probably would have been more comforted if he'd exploded into some sort of enraged rant; then I would have known for sure that he was in fact susceptible to the same emotions as the rest of his species.

And for some bizarre and accursed reason, I felt _bad_ about the whole situation. After everything – after he'd treated me like some sort of coinage – I still couldn't muster the deep, bone-chilling hatred that I wanted convey. He was horrid and annoying and untrustworthy and so, _so _clever. What was wrong with me?

I was abruptly ripped from my musings, however, when I heard a deafening screech on deck.

I quickly rushed outside to see what was happening, to find that the crew was staring into the sky in bewilderment.

"What was that?" Tom asked with thinly veiled fear, gripping his cutlass tightly.

There was another screech, which faintly resembled the cry of a bird multiplied tenfold. This sound was louder than its predecessor, and caused all of my crewmates to clamp their hands over their ears and double over in pain. Some of the men dropped to their knees at the unbearable racket, and even Sparrow wasn't immune to screwing his eyes shut and covering his unexposed ears. Dog-Emery whined pitifully and buried his face in his large paws.

For some reason, I was resistant to the full affect of the noise. To be sure, it was unpleasant and grating; but I wasn't bothered to the point of incapacitation.

However, I was still terrified of whatever was making the ear-splitting racket and was quite positive that the sound did not bode well for our safety. Gibbs' prediction seemed to be manifesting itself sooner than I'd anticipated.

"What's going on?" I screamed above the din; my ears were ringing and I could hardly hear myself think.

Cotton apparently was able to read my lips, and pointed to the twilight sky. At first, I saw nothing; but then there was a dark and shadowy flash against the dim orangey rays of sunlight. Something was hovering around the ship.

All of a sudden, a woman came into view and landed on the yardarm. She was perched, like a hawk, and gazed down at us with her head cocked to the side. She seemed quite ordinary, at first glance; that is, apart from the fact that the underside of her arms – from wrist to armpit – were completely covered in brown feathers. Soon, two similar creatures landed on either side of their companion and stared at us intently.

For the first time since the start of my unfortunate voyage, I wasn't completely and utterly clueless. I knew these creatures. Legends of them had reached even the sheltered cove of Whitecap Bay.

They were sirens.

Sirens were rare. Rarer than mermaids, and far more dangerous. When they were calm, their voices were beautiful and seductive and could lure even the strongest of sailors into their evil clutches. But when they were angry – that's when things became especially perilous. When they were angry, their voices would change from melodious and soothing to discordant and petrifying. They could paralyze men with a mere shriek, rendering them tragically helpless; _and_ easy to consume.

Cecily must have sent these heinous monstrosities to do her bidding.

They screeched in unison once more, and this time I couldn't help but let out a short yelp of pain. This, much to everyone's misfortune, caused all the lanterns to break and fire to erupt on deck. I screamed again at the sight of the horrifying flames, which seemed to further perturb the sirens; they began slashing at the sails with their talon-like fingers and splintering the mainmast. One swooped down and easily snatched up poor Marty, who slashed and writhed hopelessly against the siren's wicked clutches. Fortunately, he was able to nick its ankle with his blade. _Un_fortunately, however, the monster ended up dropping him into the waves below.

Jack, now the only one of the men still conscious (but just _barely_), was frantically searching the deck for something. What exactly that was, however, I had no idea. In his mad whirlwind of motion, he had enough sense to throw a line to Marty; the whole thing was so frenzied and fluid, that I almost missed it.

He clearly wasn't having any success at all in his exploratory endeavor, and I feared we were all doomed.

"Cassie!" he saw (and heard, but only just) him bellow.

I tried desperately to focus on him as my vision became blurred and my mind hazy. He made an up-down motion with one of his hands, as if he were strumming an instrument.

That's when it struck me – he had been searching for Cotton's guitar. This realization came as a burst of clarity and brought me back to full consciousness.

Music. That was the only thing that could appease the sirens. In all the commotion, I'd forgotten this very simple (and very _essential_) fact.

So, I did what I had to. Jack was the only one awake, so the others wouldn't witness what was about to happen. Although, I didn't know if this was a good thing or not.

I took a deep breath, knowing that what I was about to do could lead to a whole slew of problems. My voice was not of this world, nor could I disguise it; Jack would surely be able to tell that something was off, and he might even be affected by its powers. But I didn't have any other choice; I opened my mouth, and sang:

"_There lived a rich nobleman's daughter,_

_So comely and handsome and fair,_

_Her father possessed a great fortune,_

_Full thirty-five thousand a year._

_She being his only daughter,_

_Caroline is her name we are told,_

_One day from her drawing-room window,_

_She espied there a young sailor bold."_

The sirens soon stopped their destruction and froze in mid-air. Apparently they, too, could be entranced by the sound of my voice.

"_Three times with her love she was shipwrecked,_" I continued,

"_Though she always moved constant and true,_

_Her duty she done like a sailor,_

_Went aloft in her jacket so blue._

_Her duty she done like a sailor,_

_Could hand reef and steer we are told._

_At last they arrived in New England,_

_Caroline and her young sailor bold._"[1]

By this point, I was victorious in placating the sirens and they appeared to be heading back from whence they came. I turned Jack, who was watching me with an unreadable expression. Our eyes remained locked for a matter of seconds, before he seemed to snap back to reality and began manically trying to put out the fire by stomping on it.

He had just witnessed something that made me completely vulnerable – that put me entirely at his mercy. Whether or not he recognized what he had seen was an enigma, but the fact remained: I'd saved not only myself, but also the entire crew by exposing myself. By exposing my _true_ self. But Jack was the only one to see it.

I didn't know what to make of this reality, and I had absolutely no idea how he would respond.

Things really could go either way; he could use this information as leverage, or he could pretend that it never happened. From the way things were progressing (i.e. he had yet to say a word to me), it seemed as if he'd chosen the latter option. But perhaps this was just wishful thinking…

When the flames had been extinguished (without any help from me, thank you very much) and a bloodied Marty had been hauled back aboard, it became indisputably apparent that the _Poseidon's Jewel _was in desperate need of restoration. The deck was scorched, the sails were a mess, and the wood of the masts was precariously cracked; it had yet to be revealed just how we would even manage to make port. Luckily for us, islands in the Caribbean were quite close and the nearest one couldn't be more than a day's sail away.

As Sparrow carelessly wiped his brow with the back of his hand, Gibbs began to come-to.

"Ah, you've awoken," Jack said with a sincere smile.

"What? What're ye sayin'?" Gibbs boomed noisily in the Captain's face, digging around in his left ear with his index finger, "I can't 'ear nothin'!"

"Never mind," Jack muttered, his eyes fluttering closed as he restrained himself from rolling them.

"What 'appened to 'em?" the first mate demanded, his voice still unbearably loud, "Where'd those wretched sky-devils fly off to?"

The Captain pointed to me and rather comically mimed out the action of singing.

Gibbs understood, and said, "Aye, that'll do it – music be the sole way to fend off a harpy. G'job, lassie."

I smiled politely at the compliment, but didn't waste my breath in thanking him.

As the others started to regain consciousness, it was plain to see that they were all temporarily deaf as well; I turned to Jack and asked, "Can _you_ hear?"

"Only just," he answered, his tone well above its normal volume. "That was a lovely song, by the way," he remarked cheekily, "Pity I didn't get to experience it in all its glory, though. Perhaps you'll sing for us another time."

"Perhaps," I grit out through clenched teeth. This was bad. This was very bad. But, at least everyone was all right; at least everyone was alive – and it was all thanks to me. Well, sort of. I hadn't come up with the idea that saved us, but I had executed it. For the first time, I felt as if I'd done something worthwhile. True enough, my actions were primarily self-defensive – but their consequences were of use to everyone, and in that way I'd been helpful. The realization was surprisingly satisfying.

"_Captain,_" I said, attempting to retain some shred of maturity, "I think we'd best head towards the nearest port, no?"

"Aye, that'd be a sensible idea," he answered loudly, "This poor girl's in great need o' repairs."

"But the sails have been compromised," I pointed out.

"Our destination shan't be _terribly_ far – she'll be able to pull through, I've faith in 'er."

"If you say so," I murmured inaudibly.

"Plus," he continued, "there should be a few spare sails somewhere below deck… Spritelies! One o' you go below and fetch 'em!"

Tom eagerly saluted and obeyed his command, though I was surprised that he was actually able to hear the other man.

"Men," Sparrow shouted once Tom had returned with an armful of sailcloth, "hop to it – make the this pathetic piece o' wood seaworthy, will ye? Time is of the essence! The mainsail's mangled beyond repair, but we'll be able to replace the jib and the foresail, which should hold us over for now, ey?" He then strode to the helm and stole a glance at his compass.

He must not have realized that I'd followed him, for he flinched slightly when I said, "We'll not speak of this, am I clear?"

"Crystal," he mumbled deprecatingly, peering from under the rim of his surprisingly long eyelashes, "Though I'm not sure just what precisely _'this'_ is a reference to."

"You know. I know you know."

"Well that really clarifies everything, doesn't it? Thank you kindly for that utterly useful insight, love."

"Don't call me that. And just remember what _I _know about _you_, _savvy?_"

I smirked haughtily after using his own term against him, and his mouth twitched faintly from beneath his mustache.

"You'd best get to work," was all he said in response.

* * *

><p><strong>[1] This song is called "Caroline and Her Young Sailor Bold," and it's (I'm assuming) the real sea shanty that they based the song in the movie on. The lyrics are very similar to "My Jolly Sailor Bold." I'm kind of surprised that they didn't just use this version, in fact...<strong>

**A/N: Anyway, thanks for reading! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. **

**You'll notice that I had Gibbs refer to the creatures as harpies, while Cassie calls them sirens. You see, something really weird happened around the Middle Ages in regard to the mythology of sirens. In ancient times, they were indeed considered vicious bird-like creatures who could lure sailors to their deaths by singing (as described in the Odyssey). But at some point, they became basically synonymous with mermaids and only retained the musical aspect of the original sirens. Harpies were also featured in ancient myths as bird-like female creatures, but they were always more frightening in that they shrieked and generally sounded awful. I confess, I'm not exactly an expert on these two mythologies, but this is what I gathered from the research I've done. Feel free to correct any of this if you know something more!  
><strong>

**Also, I kind of combined the two mythologies out of convenience in this chapter, but I wanted to portray that Cassie thinks of things (of the supernatural nature) in a more dated fashion, whereas Gibbs is a bit more up-to-date, if you will. **

**Sorry for rambling, but I just thought I'd throw this in there in case anyone noticed this/was curious! Please revieww :D  
><strong>


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: As always, thank you so much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! I hope you all enjoy this one :)**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter XIV<strong>

Immediately after my conversation with Sparrow, I turned around to see Wentworth invading my personal space. I jumped in surprise, prompting him to say, "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."

"Is there something you need?" I asked, not in the mood for niceties.

"I just wanted to make sure that you were all right," he began, "And to thank you for what you did – your bravery saved all of us."

"It wasn't really bravery…" I murmured darkly through my teeth.

"But indeed, it was – only a strong woman would have been able to even find her voice in such a scenario, let alone sing so beautifully."

"You heard me?" I demanded, panic seeping into my chest.

"No, but it must have been beautiful otherwise the harpies wouldn't have left. Mr. Gibbs just explained the myth to us all while you were talking to the Captain."

"Oh, well it's really _I _who should be thanking _you_," I started.

"What for?"

"For coming to get me, of course! Lord knows, I would have been left there otherwise…" I'd subconsciously put my hand on his shoulder, which seemed to cause him some embarrassment.

He reddened slightly and mumbled, "I was just following orders."

I abruptly released him, confusion written across my face; _following orders_?

"What do you mean, 'following orders'?" I asked pointedly.

"Captain Sparrow sent me to get you, didn't you know?"

"He… sent you?"

"Yes – well, I mean," he amended hastily, finally noticing his mistake, "I'd have come for you regardless, of course. But it was indeed – technically speaking – the Captain who sent me, yes. I – I thought he would have told you."

"He did not," I stated impassively. "I have to go. We've a lot of work to do if we're to make it into port in a timely fashion."

"Cassie, please don't be cross…"

"Cross? Why would I be cross? I'm perfectly content – I still extend my gratitude to you, whether or not you came to my aid on your own accord."

"I assure you, it _was _on my own accord – I would stand by your side no matter what – we're crewmates, after all, and I'd hoped..."

"Wonderful," I cut him off coolly, fearing his next words, "But we really should get back to work…"

"Of course…" he agreed dejectedly; much to my relief, he was backing off.

This information was troubling. It put a tear in my unwavering hatred for Sparrow, and I didn't like to have my opinions disrupted. And it also complicated my mental image of his character. _Why_ in the name of everything on God's green earth (thank you, Gibbs, for the expression) would Sparrow sell me to a monster and then send Wentworth to rescue me? It made absolutely no sense.

Unless, of course, he thought I could be of use to him.

But why would he think that? He hadn't heard what Cecily had told me, and she hadn't told him, either. So, he couldn't possibly know about the "worse off without me" comment.

Even if he _was_ aware of what I was, the only way I could be valuable was if I _wanted _to help him, which I certainly did not – and he knew this. He knew that I intensely disliked him, and, if he didn't, then I'd given his intellect far too much credit.

I would confront him about this later, I decided. Sparrow might have enjoyed games of riddles and secrecy, but I did not; I wanted every bit of information laid out before me. I couldn't stand the thought of any_one_ withholding any_thing_ from me, which was problematic when it came to dealing with the devious captain. He wasn't exactly one to lay all his cards out on the table, as they say.

It _also _completely obliterated any good feelings whatsoever that had been culminating towards Wentworth. Don't get me wrong, I didn't blame him, nor was I angry with him – I truly believed that he would have come to rescue me regardless of whether or not Sparrow told him to. But I had no proof of this, so it was difficult to use it as rationalization for my incipient fondness of him.

That didn't mean I still wouldn't try to, however; I would gladly embrace any opportunity to distance myself from Wentworth in the romantic sense.

I realized how this sounded – that it made me seem selfish and cruel – but it was the truth. I would not pretend or try to hide my true nature. If I prided myself in one thing, it was that I was honest with myself, which meant that I was required to recognize even my worst qualities.

Wentworth was a typical, idealistic young man of his age. He was relatively innocent, and had probably only turned to piracy for want of money or some such misguided albeit moderately respectable reason. From our prior conversations, I'd gathered that he disliked the brutality of the military, which only added to this suspicion that he was somehow mixed up in illegal activity for the right reasons rather than the wrong ones. Because there _were _justified reasons to engage in piracy, in my opinion – it just so happened, however, that very few people actually paid them any notice.

But Wentworth was a good man, and he deserved a good woman for a bride. I was not a "good woman" in any sense of the word, and therefore we were entirely unsuitable for one another. He, apparently, had yet to recognize this, but I was sure that he would find someone else eventually and forget all about me. Or at least, I hoped he would.

"Cap'n," Gibbs called suddenly, jostling me from my contemplative reverie, "the nearest port 'pears ta be St. Croix." His graying face was buried in the parchment of a large map.

"Wonderful," Jack replied, rubbing his palms together vigorously, "We'll have no trouble there." He then resumed his focus on the horizon, seemingly lost in his own mind. Only God knew what he was planning… The sight of Mr. Sparrow thinking was never one to be welcomed, I had quickly come to discover.

"Mr. Gibbs," I said quietly, "how are we to know that the sirens won't return for us? Obviously they're able to leave the island, even if Cecily is not."

"Aye, that be a fair observation, lassie. But the devils are only able ta venture within a certain radius of Isla Flotante, y'see, which I believe we've escaped. Em'ry seems to be actin' normal now – he ain't growlin' like a hellhound anymore…"

"But how are we to be absolutely _certain_?"

"There is no way o' bein' absolutely certain 'til we reach St. Croix. The 'arpies are not permitted to reign near settled land."

"How long will it take for us to arrive?"

"Normally I'd say by the end o' the day we'd 'ave reached our destination, but considerin' the state of the sails, it may not be 'til tomorrah mornin'."

"Fantastic," I muttered sardonically, "So we've yet to endure another night of imminent peril?"

"I wouldn' say _'imminent'_ perhaps, but aye, there be a possibility o' danger. But you'd do well to get used to the notion, missy, for danger be somethin' that comes with the territory o' bein' a pirate."

I knew he was right in this assertion, so I did not respond. Instead, I returned to my task of folding the ruined sails.

The day passed quickly, and before we knew it the sun was beginning to set; still, unfortunately, there was still no sign of land. However, before we dropped anchor for the night, Sparrow announced, "Men, it is my great joy to inform you that we're very close to reaching our destination. We'll most definitely be able to make port by tomorrow morning. For now, you'd all best get some shut-eye. We'll be needing to keep a low profile once we reach St. Croix – Port Frederiksted is still but a young colony and though it has no defensive structure, there is indeed a military presence; not to mention the Dutch East India Trading Company, which is most indubitably not a force that ought to be reckoned with, mark my words. We don't want to draw attention to ourselves, savvy? Our singular mission is to get the _Jewel_ repaired and be on our way as swiftly as possible."

Everyone had since regained their hearing, and replied, "Aye, sir."

"Now off to bed with ye – 'cept you, Cotton, you've got the night watch."

Cotton nodded stiffly in acknowledgement, made his way up to the barrels behind the helm, and took a seat.

I, with the rest of the crew, began to file below deck and launch myself into a hammock. I didn't realize how exhausted I truly was until I was laying down, and I dozed to sleep in matter of seconds.

_(The next day…)_

The next morning, we all awoke at the crack of dawn – as per usual – and resumed sail. Just as both Gibbs and Sparrow had predicted, we were able to arrive in Port Frederiksted by about ten o'clock that very same morning.

I quickly understood what Sparrow had meant by his "young colony" comment – there were very few buildings in sight, while the port itself was quite full. Luckily, the number of ships already docked obscured our entrance, and we were able to tie the _Jewel_ up without attracting any unwanted notice.

We all stealthily stepped from the side of the ship onto the wooden dock.

"I shall go speak to a shipbuilder about the damage – we'll reconvene here in an hour or so…" Sparrow instructed, shooing us off.

An hour. What was I supposed to do for an entire hour? I hadn't any money, and I hadn't even any idea of what was appropriate for a woman of my age and position to be doing.

"Marty," I asked as we headed towards town, "how long do you think it'll take for the _Jewel_ to be fixed?"

"From what I've seen b'fore, I reckon 'bout five or six days," he answered.

"Five or six days," I repeated in disbelief, "what are we supposed to do until then?"

"I'm sure we'll think o' somethin'," he replied with a lewd wink.

"Where are we supposed to stay?" I pressed obliviously, "I haven't any money."

"I'm sure there're some inns that won't cost ye nothin', if ye know what I mean… Here's what ye do, lass – you've got to find yerself a tavern and drink 'til ye can't even remember yer own name. They'll be forced to let ye stay there, and even if they turn ye out it won't bother ye none. Plus, I don' think anyone'll be givin' the boot to the likes o' you."

"I don't think that will work for me," I protested delicately. Intentionally driving myself into a state of near-unconsciousness somehow didn't sound appealing in the least… Plus, I didn't trust anyone enough to allow myself to become so susceptible to the wills of others.

He eyed me carefully, before replying, "I guess you're right… Well, don't ye have even a coin or two ta spare?"

"No, you don't understand – I don't have a cent to my name."

"Nothing at all?"

I shook my head, indicating that I indeed did not.

"Er – well, I s'pose you oughtta speak to the cap'n 'bout that, then," he said uncomfortably. It was clear that he was not about to offer me any financial help – I didn't fault him, though. Greed was, after all, something pirates were noted for.

"Thanks," I said somewhat bitterly, before strolling towards the village with the rest of the crew.

The only thing I could think to do was procure some new manner of attire, but such a mission would be impossible without money. As I saw women in calico dresses meandering about, I became painfully aware of the fact that I was still wearing the clothing I had found aboard the _Queen Anne's Revenge._ I didn't know much about the customs of human garments, but I wagered such things were meant to be changed more frequently than once a month. Plus, the tops of my thighs were beginning to itch, which I took as a sign that my britches had outlived their welcome.

_I could always _borrow_ a new outfit,_ I thought to myself mischievously. I did have an hour to kill, after all…

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I hope you all liked it! Please review!**


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who's reviewed so far! It really means a lot to me :) I hope you all enjoy this chapter!**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter XV<strong>

I found stealing to be deplorably simple.

In fact, it astounded me that the human race was even able to function on some sort of currency; the majority of men must truly have been hopeless if they hadn't been able to master the art of thievery. I'd perfected the act in less than an hour (perhaps I'm exaggerating a _tad_), while most people had their entire lives to practice. Why everyone didn't resort to this method of survival, I would never know.

Granted, I might have had a _slight_ advantage… The shop clerk was a teenage boy, and he seemed much more occupied with my bosom (which really wasn't anything spectacular, especially through the concealing fabric of my chemise) than my hands, to put it gently. It also helped that the clothes I'd been wearing were extremely baggy and therefore advantageous for storing other items of worth without revealing my deceit. It wasn't as if I'd stolen anything particularly elaborate or even valuable – the clothing in the shop was all tailored for men, so it made sense that I wouldn't be perceived as a threat.

"I'm just browsing for my husband," I had asserted with a simpering smile, "He's the captain of a ship, so he's occupied at the moment – he'll probably be stopping in later."

The boy had grinned warmly, but didn't reply; I suspected that he did not speak English, but rather Dutch.

After having successfully stuffed my desired articles of clothing between my loose shirt and britches, I left the store around fifteen minutes later with a crisp, white chemise and a pair of dark brown britches, both in smaller sizes. With any luck, this new ensemble wouldn't look as ridiculous as its predecessor…

Having accomplished his minor albeit important task, I set out in hopes of obtaining some sort of shoe. I decided that it might be a bit difficult to steal a pair of boots (it might be quite obvious), so I came to the conclusion that perhaps I ought to just steal the _money_ for a pair of boots instead.

I admit, this may not have been the absolute _best_ of my ideas – stealing off of one's person was sure to be infinitely harder, after all. But I was emboldened by my previous triumph, and thus didn't give the prospective complications much thought.

First, however, I had to identify my target.

The streets were fairly bustling, and I soon noticed that some passersby were much more aware of their surroundings than others. For instance, a certain number of men made their way down the dusty streets, completely occupied with the action of carrying boxes or some such similar task. It was logical, then, that I should try to take advantage of one of these more distracted humans.

Soon, an opportunity presented itself: I caught sight of a man – probably in his fifties – carrying a large crate filled with books. At his waist, I spotted a small burlap coin purse in full display.

I crept behind him quietly for a few minutes in an attempt to see whether or not he would notice my benign presence. He didn't, so I swiftly readied myself to commit the deed. Slowly, I extended my arm and allowed my hand to hover over the purse. I painstakingly slide it out from under the security of his belt. When the crime was accomplished, I held my prize before me in amazement.

However, in all my self-congratulations, I failed to factor in how the public might respond to my treachery.

"Dief!" I heard someone yell. The translation took me a moment, but it then dawned on me that I was being called a thief.

My victim spun around immediately, and it became inescapably clear that I was in danger. People began slinking towards me as if they were approaching a skittish animal. I didn't wait for anyone to get too close, and took off immediately.

As I was running with a small crowd trailing me, I became aware that I had absolutely no destination in mind. I did pass by the docks, however, and I vaguely remember speeding past two dumbfounded Spritelies.

At some point, the dirt roads ended and the terrain became lush. I turned sharply and for a split second I lost sight of my pursuers. I seized this brief opening and dove into a particularly thick patch of greenery. Mere milliseconds later, I heard the trudging footsteps of the crowd approach my hiding place. I carefully peered through the thin trunk of the bush, to see around three sets of feet directly beside me – if they looked underneath, I would surely be exposed. However, they were close enough that I was safe as things were. I also noticed, however, that one of the pairs of boots were much more expensive-looking than the others. A chill passed through me as I realized that the man was most likely a military officer or some other sort of official.

I sucked in my breath (which was surprisingly difficult to do after sprinting a long distance), and prayed that they couldn't hear the desperate thumping of my heart.

"Where is she?" I heard a male voice demand in Dutch.

"She must have gone deeper into the forest," someone else replied, "We'll never find her, there's too much area to cover. She probably won't even be able to find her way out, stupid girl."

"I had ten guilders in that pouch!"

"We can notify everyone that there has been a robbery; even if she does come back, we will be able to spot her. It would be impossible to miss that scarlet hair."

"I suppose you are right… But if I see her…"

"We will put the word out that you want her brought to you, sir. You may deal with her punishment as you see fit."

"Alright. Damn that wench! I'll have my money back, I swear it."

I then heard the footsteps pick up again, which I assumed meant that the people where leaving. However, I didn't dare take any chances; I waited for five minutes after the sound had ceased until I built up the courage to poke my head out of the shrubbery. I looked around frantically, before reaching the conclusion that I was indeed alone.

Great. Now what was I supposed to do? I couldn't show my face in the town again, and we were stranded here for five days, according to Marty. This was most unfortunate, to say the least. _And_ I was supposed to meet with the rest of the crew soon.

However, only around three or four people had chased me down, and none of them really gotten a good look at me; all they'd noticed was my hair. If I hid it, perhaps my situation could be salvaged. I _did_ still have Schmitty's hat…

I took a deep breath and shook off the sense of dread that was building inside my chest. I quickly decided that now was as good a time as any to change clothes, seeing as I didn't want to be recognized.

As I was peeling down my britches, I noticed something very disconcerting. On the tops of my thighs – where it had been itchy earlier that morning – there was some sort of scaly red irritation. I gingerly ran my hand over the affected area, and my legs seared in pain. The flesh was bumpy and almost scabby, not to mention hideous in appearance.

I didn't know what do to or what to make of this, so I quickly pulled on my new britches and pretended that I had never noticed the rash. Perhaps it would go away on its own and wasn't a sign of anything serious…

After I'd changed my chemise, I pulled all my hair up to the top of my head and pinned it beneath my tricorn. I left my old garments in the foliage before I slowly making my way back to the town, but not without my newly acquired coin purse.

I attempted to look as innocuous as possible as I walked to the docks, where two or three crewmembers were already positioned.

"Is that Cassie?" I heard Tom ask.

"Yes, it is I," I answered quietly.

"What were you _doing_?" Tim demanded.

"I'd rather not talk about it…" I said with a poorly disguised smirk. I couldn't resist jingling my small trophy in front of them.

Marty looked at me with raised eyebrows and said, "I gotta say lass, I didn't think ye had it in ye."

"Neither did I," I replied with surprising sincerity.

Just then, I watched as Gibbs, along with the rest of the crew (including dog-Emery, who seemed to have taken to trailing Cotton), approached us.

"Why do'ye look like that?" Gibbs asked me immediately upon his arrival.

"It's a long story," I explained abstractly, "But lets just say it would be in my best interest to remain incognito for the time being."

"Ah, it's one o' _those _types o' things, is it? Well, Cap'n's always been good at maintainin' a low profile when the need presents itself, as it were, so I reckon you'd do well to follow 'is example."

"Aye," Jack agreed, eying me quizzically, "But something about you simply _begs_ to be noticed…"

"One could say the same about you, sir," I replied cheekily. And it was certainly true – Jack's appearance (_and _persona) stood out amongst the crowd, to say the least.

He smirked furtively, but only for a ghost of a moment; I thought I might have only imagined it. He soon assumed a more commanding stance and announced, "I've spoken with the shipbuilder, and it appears that our stay here will amass a total of four days. Mind you, he initially insisted that the reparations would take at least a week, but, being the master of persuasion that I am, I was able to reach a more prudent agreement with the young chap. However, this means that until then we'll have to conduct ourselves with some ounce of respectability, savvy? That means no more unconcealed larceny, _Cassie_. Having said this, what you do here is really no interest of mine, so long as whatever it may be doesn't put our _position_, as it were, in jeopardy. There's a tavern and brothel in this flea of a village, so I expect you all shall be able to keep yourselves satisfactorily occupied."

At the sound of this last sentence, Marty took it upon himself to nudge Cotton with his stubby elbow and wink crudely. My heart went out to the women who would be charged with "occupying" them…

"So… we're to do whatever we want?" Tom asked with wide, lost eyes.

"Within reason," Jack corrected. The Spritlies turned to one another abruptly and locked eyes meaningfully. "Don't do anything –" However, before Jack could continue, the boys had run off.

"– stupid…" he finished with a very mildly worried wince. "Well," he said after a beat of silence, "I'll be in the tavern, if anyone needs me." With that, he turned on his heel and strode away. Gibbs, Marty, and Cotton soon followed suit.

Wentworth directed his attention towards me and asked, "What are _you_ planning on doing?" He didn't look as if he wanted to start his binge drinking quite so early in the day.

"I was going to go purchase some boots," I said, "Would you care to join me?"

"I would love to," he said sarcastically. "But, in all honesty, I'd much rather run errands than end up in some sort of drunken brawl. So yes, I would care to join you."

I smiled sweetly at him, and together we made our way to the main road. If any of those thugs came after me, it sure would be useful to have Wentworth by my side…

* * *

><p><strong>AN: There you have it! I know some of you said that you wanted a bit more interaction with Jack and Cassie, so I assure you that that will be coming in the next chapter! Just as a random side-note (this might fall under the TMI category, but I thought it was interesting...) the strangest thing happened right after I wrote this chapter - literally a few hours after I finished the rough draft, I broke out in hives on the tops of my legs. That's really weird, right? I've only had hives like one other time in my life. So yeah, I just thought it was odd. (I don't even know how many people read this, but sometimes I like to give little anecdotes).**

**By the way, sunnydayz56, in your review you asked what Cassie was wearing for a shirt and if mermaids' blood is silver. As for the shirt question, Cassie was still wearing the clothes that she took from _The Queen Anne's Revenge_. For the silver blood question, I honestly don't know what color blood mermaids traditionally have. You could very well be right, but I know that when Philip stabs Syrena's tail in OST, she has red blood. Since almost every creature has red blood, I just thought that it would make sense if she did too! Hope this clears everything up :)**

**Sorry for this massive A/N, please review! :D  
><strong>


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! I know you're all itching for some Jack/Cassie, and I promise that your wishes will be granted if you're just patient ;) I hope you all enjoy this one!**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter XVI<strong>

When Wentworth and I had finished our errand (boots were quite puzzling and uncomfortable contraptions, if I do say so myself), we took a calm stroll through the town.

"Why did you decide to join Captain Sparrow's ship, if you don't mind my asking," I inquired abruptly.

"Well," he started, "I really couldn't stand the Navy. My captain was extremely strict, even by military standards, and, you see, my mother is very ill back home. I thought my Navy salary might cover her health expenses, but the payments weren't nearly enough. Engaging in piracy had really never even been a consideration for me, but circumstances made it such that it was the most logical option. When I heard that Captain Sparrow as assembling a crew, the choice seemed obvious – Sparrow is known for both his success in the fiscal sense and his tolerance. You _do_ know the story of how he came into piracy, don't you?"

"I'd always just assumed that he'd been born into it…" I felt a bit stupid for not knowing anything about the man to whom I supposedly swore my allegiance.

"True enough, pirate blood flows through his veins – but he started off as a merchant sailor, just as respectable as the lot o' them. He sailed under the East India Trading Company, if I remember correctly, and he was quite well-to-do."

"What happened?" I scoffed. It was hard for me to fathom that Jack could have ever been defined by the terms "respectable" and "well-to-do."

"As the story goes, Mr. Cutler Beckett, head of the Company, ordered Captain Sparrow to transport a shipment of human cargo from Africa to the New World."

"Human cargo?" I interrupted, confused.

"You know, slaves," he said quietly as if it were a taboo subject. "Anyway, he failed to complete this task and released all the cargo back in Africa. When he returned to the Caribbean, Beckett was, as you can imagine, not exceedingly pleased."

"What did he do?"

"He branded him a pirate – I don't know if you've noticed, but he does indeed have a scar on his forearm from the run-in."

"Well, he's certainly seemed to have embraced the label," I remarked.

"Indeed," Wentworth agreed.

A pleasant silence followed, and the pair of us looked out to the horizon at the sinking sun.

"You know," I started tentatively, "Perhaps we ought to check on the others…" I couldn't help but recall what had happened the last time the crewmembers had been permitted to drink freely; their behavior hadn't exactly fallen under the restrictions of "keeping a low profile."

"I was just thinking the same."

So, we then set off towards the tavern; it had become much more populated now that the night was drawing nearer. We stepped inside the candle-lit wooden building and easily spotted our comrades: they were all positioned around a large table with simple pewter beer steins and a deck of cards laid before them. There were also several buxom women surrounding them, and Cotton even had one sitting on his lap. The Spritelies were clearly enthralled with these women, though most of them seemed to be directing their attention towards Sparrow.

"I see they've made good use of their time," I commented wryly.

Wentworth laughed, but pressed forward. Soon, we were standing before them.

"Ah, Cassie!" Tim hiccupped cheerily. He looked up at me in adoration, but he could hardly keep his eyes open.

"How much have you let him drink," I demanded accusatorily; the question was directed at Jack.

"Don't lookit me," he answered, putting his hands up to indicate innocence, "They're not my prob'lem."

"Let'em 'ave a good time!" Gibbs boomed heartily. His outburst was a bit unexpected, and I turned to him in surprise. He was clearly just as far gone as his younger companions. "That'll be three shillings fer me, thank'ye very much…" he said to Marty. After the smaller man had begrudgingly handed him a handful of coins, Gibbs looked to me and Wentworth and instructed, "Siddown, the both o' ye. 'ave a drink." He pushed a pitcher towards us.

Wentworth was easily able to get the attention of a barmaid, and had two more steins brought over. He then proceeded to pour the alcohol into both of them and handed one to me. I didn't know what to do.

"Go on, have a drink," Wentworth prodded lightly, "It's not going to do any harm." He himself took a large swig, before turning to me expectantly.

I looked at the frothy amber liquid mistrustfully and raised the rim of the mug to my lips. The drink was bitter, but not altogether unpleasant. I took a larger gulp and felt the fluid slosh down my esophagus; I hadn't eaten since God-knows-when, and it felt odd to have something occupying my stomach.

I honestly had no idea how or even _if _the beer would affect me, so I decided to play it by ear and drink sparingly. If, after an hour or so, I remained sober, perhaps I would drink more. But until then, I was to be very cautious.

"Navy boy, take me place," Marty said, "Ole Gibbs is bleedin' me dry. I think I'm gonna re'tire fer the night," he continued, smiling lewdly at his hefty blonde companion.

Wentworth eyed the couple disapprovingly, but said, "Alright… What are we playing?"

"All Fours, mate. Jack, ye better join in now – Marty's gone and left n' neither Cotton nor'the Spr'lies are innerested and ye know ye can't play wit' only two people."

"I would, my dear friend, but I wouldn' want you to lose _all_ of your humble earnings."

"N'nsense, Jack. Ye know I kin beat ye with one'and tied behind me back."

"You've always got one hand attached to your liquor, so is that not the same?"

" 's a lot o' talk fer someone who don' want to play…"

"Fine, deal me."

"Cassie, would you like to play?" Wentworth asked. His eloquence was a far cry from the slurs that had assaulted my ears only moments before.

"No, I don't know how," I answered. Nor was I interested to learn – it looked... complicated.

Jack stretched his arms out and cracked his knuckles exaggeratedly as he readied himself for the match. Suddenly, a pretty blonde barmaid came up behind him and put her delicate hands on his shoulders. Jack craned his neck to look at the woman, as if to make sure that she was adequate, before flashing his notorious speckled grin. He languorously lifted one of his arms, which she took as a cue to settle herself upon his knee. It was clear that she did not speak English and that Jack did not speak Dutch, but linguistic barriers were apparently not enough to squelch the virile pirate's libido.

Wentworth watched all this transpire with a raised eyebrow, but Gibbs did not seem surprised in the least.

Strangely, I felt agitated and hostile towards the woman. I did not know why. Perhaps it was because she was getting more male attention than I was, and she was so _obviously_ inferior to me in terms of physical attributes. I mean, I was a bloody _mermaid_, for crying out loud. She – she was just some bar wench. It was preposterous that _she_ should be more appealing than I.

I drowned my indignation in the remainder of my beer.

This didn't quell the bizarre sensation at all, so I quite logically decided that the only possible solution was to drink more alcohol. I poured myself another glass and tried to unglue my eyes from Jacks filthy hand, which was drawing lazy circles on the fabric covering the strumpet's hipbone.

I quickly finished the beer. I needed more. No one noticed how much I was drinking, which only further irked me. And on top of that, I couldn't seem to get knackered. After finishing off the pitcher (only to have it be replaced almost immediately), I found that my mind was only slightly hazy.

His hand moved lower – to her thigh, to be precise.

It soon dawned on me _why_ mermaid culture did not foster close relationships – it was because an all-female species was too competitive to allow for such an environment. I took another long swig, because this thought was far too lucid to be passing through my mind after I'd drunken so much. I finally began to understand the term "drinking like a fish."

Jack won the card came, and he happily collected a mound of gold and silver coins. The wench gave him a kiss as a reward. It looked like it was meant to be short, but Jack prolonged it.

I stood and left the tavern.

I was surprised that Wentworth didn't follow me, and I surmised that he hadn't seen me leave. _How wonderful_, I thought to myself bitterly. I didn't know what had come over me, what had made me so churlish. There was no reasonable explanation for it.

But now, I was walking down the darkened streets along the shoreline. I was being completely driven by some primal instinct and I didn't feel as if I had any control over my actions. What I did know, however, was that I was going to the water. I needed to be in the ocean. I needed to go home.

Eventually, the houses and shops disappeared and I was walking along an uninhabited stretch of beach. I clumsily began to remove my clothing (for I was not _completely _unaffected by the copious amount of alcohol I had consumed) and left it in a trail behind me. I caught a glimpse of my sinewy bare legs, only to see that the rash had progressed further down my skin. I panicked. I needed to get in the water.

I stuck my bare foot in the sea and felt the pleasant, familiar coldness envelop me. I was purged of my vexation. As the miraculous liquid gently lapped against my legs, it washed away the irritation. Once the water reached my waist, the limbs merged together and were replaced by my much-missed tail. So _that_ was how it worked.

I submerged my head and savored the feeling of the current passing through my long hair; swimming while inebriated was an entirely new and wonderful sensation. Every twist, every turn was magnified and every hint of delight was heightened. I flipped and rolled and dove and forgot all about silly Jack Sparrow and his flirtatious whore. It was brilliant.

All of a sudden, however, one of my twirls was cut short.

I felt some sort of rough material ensnare me, and I was abruptly pulled towards the shore.

I fought against the offending material, but to no avail; it stretched the length of the beach and I was unable to swim either under or over it. Perhaps if I'd been sober I'd have found a way out, but such was not the case. Alas, I was in danger and I was petrified.

I was inelegantly thrust out of the water and onto the surprisingly hard sand. I felt my tail diverge and two sets of rough hands pin my arms behind my back. I brought my knees to my chest and shook my hair over myself in an attempt to maintain some shard of modesty, but my nakedness was still inescapable.

"This little thief is even more of a nuisance than I'd thought. That red hair – it's so recognizable…" said a gruff male voice. He was speaking Dutch. I opened my eyes wildly and saw that he and his companions were in uniform.

"Leave me alone!" I hissed, writhing desperately. The affects of the alcohol were lost completely in my terror.

"What is a mermaid doing here, in Port Frederiksted? And mingling with humans, no less. How did you get here?" he demanded, pressing a cold knife to my throat.

"I will tell you nothing," I grit out menacingly.

"Now, now, you will only tell us nothing if what you seek is death," he said with false sweetness.

"Release me!" I commanded, baring my teeth.

"Why are you here?" he pressed.

"You will not let me go, even if I tell you."

"That matters not."

"Of course it does! I will not tell you anything. You are wasting your breath."

"I thought you might say that… Unfortunately for you, I know a way to _make_ you tell us. Nicolaas, bring me the light," he ordered. "You don't think we sail the world without learning a thing or two, do you?"

Another man stepped forward holding a lit lantern; he handed it to his superior. "We must choose our words carefully," he prefaced, "We will have only one chance to make an inquiry."

The man with his knife to my throat momentarily moved it and sliced off a lock of my vibrant hair. He blew on it and rubbed it against his uniform so that it was not wet.

"No!" I shrieked.

"By the power of Nerthus, mistress of the sea, we compel you to tell us what you seek!" he yelled, dropping my hair into the fire.

I felt the air exit my lungs, my eyes roll back, and my body go limp. I no longer had control over my actions. "We seek that which makes men most powerful," said a surreal voice from my mouth.

"Hear that, men?" said the horrid officer, "I told you we'd learn something important. Now, the only question I have left is this: what should we do with her?"

"I say we kill her," said a particularly frightened sailor.

"But she's on land," reasoned another, "she can't hurt us. Plus, how are we going to find, 'that which makes men most powerful,' without her?"

"That is very true," said the leader, "And it would be a pity to have to extinguish such a beautiful flame so soon…" he continued, trailing his finger lightly down my bare skin. In one harsh and abrupt movement, he tried to pry my knees away from my chest; I let out an earth-shattering scream.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Please review and I'll get the next chapter up ASAP! **


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! I won't delay you any longer...**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter XVII<strong>

The only coherent string of thought that could make its way through my mind was this: _I am going to be violated. I am going to be tortured. They will kill me eventually._

I fought against them viciously, but I was no match for three grown men. I was close – _so close_ to the water, to my sanctuary, but I could not break free. I was a mere step away from salvation, yet I could not reach it.

Perhaps this was my punishment for defying Cecily; perhaps she and "mistress Nerthus" were one in the same. I would never know.

"You will pay for this!" I screamed with disturbing intensity. Had I not been in such a compromising position, I would have startled even myself with the forcefulness of my tone.

"Oh darling, you won't be saying that when we're finished with you. I thought you mermaids were supposed to love this sort of thing – what are you thinking, going around without any clothing? You're practically _begging _for this to happen, and when I'm done, you'll be _begging_ for more."

My hands were still tied behind my back, and now someone was working furiously to straighten my legs. Eventually they succeeded, and I lay flat against the dusty sand. I bit and snarled and kicked and thrashed, but to no avail. I was reduced to simply shrieking, but soon a coarse palm came over my mouth and stifled even this pathetic mode of self-defense. I tried to sink my teeth into his hand, but could not.

I screwed my eyes shut so tightly that I began to see red; but no tears made their way down my face, for I was tough. I would not let this break me. Whatever was to come, I would triumph over it. I appeared much more delicate than I was, and it took much more than some simple act of physical dominance to draw a tear from a mermaid, that's for sure. I wouldn't give these men the satisfaction of knowing they'd hurt me.

The sound of buttons coming undone interrupted the silence of my terror. I'd shut out every other sound but this and my pitiful whimpers. I tried desperately to ready myself for what was to come, both mentally and physically. I built an iron wall around my sanity and did something remarkable: I removed myself from the situation. It was no longer I who lay on the sand, pinned under the grimy and irreverent hands of some lustful officer. I was somewhere else. I was somewhere safe.

Suddenly, a voice broke through: "Oi, what are you lot doing?"

It was such a simple question, and so out of place.

It was Jack.

"Stop there – don't come any closer!" the leader said in broken English. "This is none of your concern! We are members of the Trading Company – this affair is private!"

I finally opened my eyes and writhed even more frantically, trying to get him to realize who it was that was in peril.

I tried to call his name, but could not.

"I can see that," Jack responded, "But it doesn't look quite so… _legitimate_, as it were. Look, mate, there's a brothel up in town – can't ye just go there?"

"If you do not leave us, I will be forced to take measures."

Jack's hand, which had already been settled on the hilt of his cutlass, fluidly unsheathed his weapon. "Let me assure you, you don't want to be doin' that," he warned with his signature smirk.

"You are a fool to disobey me! This – this _whore_ is not some virtuous maiden that is in need of your defense."

"Well, she's clearly in need of defense, mine or otherwise. And, as to whether she's virtuous or not, that's not really any of my concern. Let 'er go... Please? I really don't want any trouble…"

"Kill him," the leader instructed his two cronies.

They both tentatively withdrew their swords and moved to attack Jack. He easily deflected their blows. Had it been anyone else, I might have been worried – two against one wasn't a fair fight, after all. But this was Captain Jack Sparrow.

While the leader was watching his men fight, I seized the opportunity to clamp my jaws around his hand. My teeth went clear through his flesh.

He screamed out in shock and momentarily released me. I used my newly freed legs to kick him in the chest, sending him backwards. Into the water. Into my domain.

At this point, I didn't even care that Jack was there. My assailants already knew what I was, and Sparrow was distracted anyway.

The officer struggled as I dragged him into the sea, but soon my legs became a tail once again and I had the ultimate upper hand. I pulled the pathetic, screaming creature down to the bottom of the cove and grinned at him with my already bloodstained teeth. He was about to find out how truly dangerous mermaids could be.

When I was finished slaughtering the wretched monster, I resurfaced and saw that Jack had stabbed one of the officers; the other was escaping. As he watched him go, I tried to quietly exit the water without him noticing. I slunk back to where I had been sitting in the sand before and tried to conceal my indecency.

Jack re-sheathed his cutlass and began walking away. For a moment, I actually thought he was going to leave me; however, I then saw him bend over and realized that he was collecting my scattered clothing. He then started to walk towards me with the bundle of fabric in hand, his gaze averted. It seemed odd that he, a pirate, should be the one to care most about my modesty. Not only had he made many lewd and inappropriate comments before, but he as struck me as a bit of a Casanova. It was strange that he should avert his gaze, while the "respectable" Trading Company men had tried something so much more horrific.

"Here," he said bluntly, looking off to the right. He tossed me my clothes and I began pulling them on frantically.

"You can look now," I said finally. I felt awkward and grateful and confused and scared all at the same time; it was quite perplexing.

"Do I even want to know what that was about?"

"How did you know I was here?" I countered with a question of my own.

"I asked first."

"No, you don't want to know what it was about. Let's just forget it ever happened."

"One got away."

"He was more timid than the other two. He's not a threat."

"He'll tell his superiors."

"Tell his superiors what?"

"I don't know, is there anything to tell?" He knew there was something to tell. He was being evasive.

I bowed my head. "I – I don't know. I'm sorry. I couldn't help it…"

"What did you tell them, Cassiopeia?" His voice was more dire than normal. I was frightened, but not by him. I knew he wouldn't hurt me; I was instead afraid of his disappointment.

"I couldn't help it!" I tried desperately.

"What did you tell them?" he repeated, clearly annunciating each word.

"They asked me what I sought."

"And…?"

I brought my eyes up from the ground. "I told them, 'that which makes men most powerful.'"

"That's just bloody fantastic," he grit out sarcastically.

"I'm sorry, they didn't give me any other choice."

He didn't respond.

"Thank you for saving me," I tried.

"_You_ didn't give me any other choice," he echoed.

A heavy silence descended upon us.

"Is he dead?" I asked, using my foot to point to the fallen officer. The sand around his body was caked with dark blood.

"I'm not entirely sure... But if he's not, he soon shall be judging by the looks o' things."

"I'm surprised you killed him," I commented.

"It was me or him. Honestly," he started with a flourish, "I ask one thing – _one thing_." He held his fingers up to emphasize the "one." "It wasn't even a difficult request – I asked to _not_ draw attention to our delicate position. And now, two officers of the Dutch East India Trading Company are dead. Really, I shouldn't be surprised. In fact, I'm not surprised – nothing can surprise me anymore. No, no you tearing that man limb from limb doesn't even surprise me."

"I'm sorry," I said meekly, "But it's not as if I _asked_ for this to happen."

"No need to be sorry. What's done is done. I make a point of never dwelling on the past. Really, though, _do_ try not to get yourself into one of those predicaments again. It's not often that _Captain _Jack Sparrow uses his extraordinary wiles to rescue a damsel in distress, savvy? Wouldn't want word getting out – it might ruin me reputation. Plus, the last time I engaged in such a lamentable practice things didn't exactly turn out so well…"

"Consider it noted. So… what now?"

"Now? Well, now we make it our number one priority _not_ to be noticed. I'm talking a 'don't-go-outdoors' type of not being noticed, is that clear? We're going to have to hold our breaths – excuse the expression – until the _Jewel_'s repaired and then be on our way as swiftly as possible."

"Do you think that man recognized you?"

"How am I to know? Unfortunately, I don't have the most forgettable of faces… But if he _does_ know who I am, he won't be coming after us without reinforcements, to be sure. And I imagine your little comment piqued his interest… Bugger, this _really_ isn't the best state of affairs…"

"Won't reinforcements take a while to arrive?"

"Indeed. More than three days, I should expect. Perhaps there is salvation after all…"

I couldn't help but smile slightly at his scatterbrained demeanor. He hadn't even mentioned the fact that I was a mermaid, and he'd only casually commented on my murderous behavior. It was safe to say that he'd regained the respect I'd lost for him when I saw that barmaid on his lap.

"In all sincerity," I began earnestly, "thank you. Lord knows what would have happened if you hadn't shown up."

"I think I could venture a guess…" he remarked. He was looking past me and I could tell that he was becoming uncomfortable under my admiration.

"It's a figure of speech. Of course I know what would have happened. Which is why," I continued, "I am thanking you."

"Don't mention it. But really, don't mention it. You're all right, though? All your appendages are still attached?"

"Yes, I'm all right." I smiled again under the cover of darkness. We started walking back towards the town, and I hung close to his side. This did not go unnoticed, though neither of us spoke of it.

"Right. Well. That's good, I suppose," he said choppily. He abruptly eased back into his more suave persona and said, "Y'know, love, there's a very simple way to escape situations like that." He put his arm around me, as if he were giving some invaluable advice.

"Oh? And what might that be?"

"A kick, if swiftly delivered to the lower regions of the male anatomy, should do the trick."

"Ah, I'll keep that in mind."

"You'd do well to. I know – believe me, I _know_ – that this is most assuredly an effective method of self-defense."

"Thanks, Jack." It was the first time I'd called him by his first name. He seemed not to notice.

"No trouble at all, dearie. One more thing, seeing as we're nearing the tavern – it'd probably be best not to mention this to the rest o' the crew. 'specially not to Navy boy, aye? The lad seems as if he might be prone to… _impulsiveness._"

"Of course," I replied, "Before we go in, though, you never answered my question: how did you know I was there?"

I felt the pressure of his hand leave my shoulder. "Ye didn't really think I hadn't noticed you'd left? I thought maybe you'd gone out to be sick or somethin', but you never came back. Almost sent Wentworth out to look for ye, too… It's a good thing I didn't."

"Thank you again," I repeated.

"If you keep thankin' me, love, I might get the impression that you think I'm a good person. And we certainly wouldn't want that, would we? Now get in the tavern, ye probably need another drink after tonight…"

I was just about to cross the doorway, but my actions were cut short.

"Oh, and Cassie," I heard him say. I turned around to see him grinning at me with a very self-satisfied look on his face. "I saw nothing," he said with a wink.

I didn't know whether he was referring to my naked body or the fact that I was a mermaid, but surmised that perhaps it was a bit of both.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: There you go, guys! Kind of Cassie/Jack! Neither of them are very affectionate, so I feel the most powerful way to convey a growing relationship is through dialogue as opposed to physical interaction. Neither Jack nor Cassie has any reservations when it comes to dealing with the other gender in the physical sense, so it kind of loses its meaning a bit. Does that make sense? I tend to ramble... Anyway, I hope you all liked it! Please review, ****guys, we can SO get to 100 :p**


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: Hello, everyone! Thanks so much to those of you who reviewed the last chapter! We made it to 100! I hope you all enjoy this one :)**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter XVIII<strong>

The next day, I found my thoughts wandering incessantly (quite on their own accord) to Mr. Sparrow. I would attempt to divert my attentions, but somehow everything always came back to him. It was quite unsettling.

I believed it was fairly safe to say that he was aware of my secret. However, I was bewildered; if he knew that I was a mermaid, why was he treating me like a human? He had witnessed me kill at least two people – two men – and seemed to think nothing of it. Of course, I couldn't imagine that he might be horrified by or frightened of me, but I didn't expect complete nonchalance. Was I not some ferocious creature? Was I not dangerous and untrustworthy? And yet he treated me like any other girl who wanted to go on an adventure. He was patronizing, yes, but he seemed to also find me _endearing_, even. Perhaps this was a bit of a stretch, but it was my interpretation.

I hadn't realized that he was actually growing on me until it was too late to undo the damage; it was sealed: I was fond of him. Don't take this the wrong way – I didn't _fancy_ him, of course (the ridiculousness of the notion was too much to even entertain). No, it was nothing like that. I respected him. I enjoyed his madness and his quirks and, though I might not have admitted it, his snide comments.

So, the next night, while Gibbs was avidly teaching me how to play All Fours, I didn't even mind when Jack said I was rubbish at cards and that I should just same myself the heartache of bankruptcy and quit. I didn't mind that he beat us all and reaped the rewards with an enormous, cheshire grin on his face. I didn't mind that he continuously poured me drink after drink, with the obvious intention of having me reach a state of inebriation.

I _did_ mind, however, when the very same girl from the previous night came up behind him and began to massage his shoulders. I most definitely minded.

But I was not going to go through this ring again; no, I had learned my lesson. Things did not turn out well when I wandered around alone and intoxicated.

So, my impaired mind attempted to devise some other sort of plan. What it fabricated – well, let's just say that what it fabricated was of questionable judgment and morality.

"Peter," I purred drunkenly, lightly trailing my fingers from the back of his hand up to his shoulder, "Per'haps you and I should form an'lliance… That way, we'll have a better chance of beating Jack 'n Gibbs." I sounded ridiculous. I sounded absurd. But when the tips of my fingers touched his skin, a shiver ran through him. _Even on land_, I thought, proudly smirking to myself.

I could have sworn that Jack watched this interaction out of the corner of his eye, and for a brief and fleeting moment I suspected that he was not nearly as intoxicated as he appeared to be. However, these thoughts quickly fled my mind as I surreptitiously watched him tug the barmaid onto his lap. I scooted closer to Wentworth; Jack and I appeared to be at war, but over what I did not know.

Poor Wentworth was, understandably, taken aback by my advances. However, he was even more dazed than I, and therefore avidly reciprocated my sentiments without thought. He swung his arm around my narrow shoulders and pulled me close.

"That sounds like'an _excellent_ idea," he slurred happily.

Jack whispered something in the wench's ear, which we both _knew_ she couldn't understand. She giggled and bobbed up and down with glee nevertheless. I felt ill and my head was on fire. I tried desperately not to be sick.

"You a'right?" Wentworth asked, his voice slow with intoxication and heavy with concern.

" 'm fine," I mumbled ruefully. I burped without warning and pressed a dainty hand to my chest in surprise, all the while Jack looked at me with his golden smile and dark, heavily lidded eyes. I suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to slap him, but resisted.

The whore – wench – barmaid – whatever she was, grabbed either side of Sparrow's face and turned it away from my direction, so that it was level with her chest. Hell, she owed everything to that damn corset. If I wore a corset, even _my _bosom could look like that. She was, for all intents and purposes, cheating.

My brain worked sluggishly in an attempt to calculate a suitable retaliation, and suddenly discovered it. I gradually tilted my head to look up at Wentworth, who was already peering down at me. I couldn't seem to focus my vision, but I allowed my swaying gaze to drop from his eyes to his lips; he was swift on the uptake.

Before I knew what was happening, our lips were touching. His mouth tasted of beer, and I'm sure mine tasted of rum. Sweet, proper Wentworth was careful and gentle in his technique, his mouth just barely touching mine.

But I would have none of that; I put my hands on either side of his face in an attempt to gain better leverage, and he surrendered control to me. I nipped at his lower lip and engaged in a sort of battle between our tongues, and I'm quite sure that I scandalized, terrified, and mystified him all at the same time. My training had taught me well.

I felt our companions' eyes burning into the back of my skull and I _think_ I remember hearing one of the Spritlies let out a whistle; but I can't be sure, it could have been anyone. When I finally decided to release him, he looked positively dumbfounded.

"She really made a man out o' you!" Marty chuckled (or was it a hiccup?), clapping Wentworth hard on the shoulder.

I turned to Jack to gauge his reaction, but saw that his wench was employing my very same methods. I tried not to let my disappointment show.

"Oi, Sparrow," said a loud and rough and decidedly _feminine_ voice.

He and the blonde pulled apart abruptly, but, before he could search for the source of the noise, a dagger whizzed past his head and landed on the wall across from him.

Or, as Cotton probably saw it, directly beside his face.

"Ah, Nat," Sparrow said cheerily. Even in the poor candlelight, I could see a glint of mischief in his eye.

"Na'lie Daggerdale," Gibbs hissed urgently from across the table, "wife o' _Captain_ Jansen Daggerdale. Notta duo ta'be reckon'd wit'." He stared at the intruder wildly, before grabbing his bottle of rum. He took a long drink and leant back in his chair; he soon tumbled over, earning more than a few vain (albeit sufficiently angry) outbursts from neighboring tavern-goers. Gibbs was unperturbed; and, more importantly, unconscious.

Sauntering towards the table was a tall, slim, commanding brunette. She was wearing men's clothing, like I was, but her ensemble was decidedly more elaborate. In addition to britches, a chemise, and an exterior leather corset, she wore a large bicorn hat stuffed with peacock feathers.

" 'ello," she said smoothly.

"I hope you are well," Jack said, deftly shoving Tim (who hardly minded) out of his chair so the woman could be seated.

"Indeed I am," she replied.

"So, what are _you_ doing _here_? On this spit o' land, I mean – not the tavern. I know why you're in the tavern."

"Well, Jack, y'see, that's a very funny story. I've 'ad a hellova day," she said, taking a swig of rum.

"And why is that?" he asked delicately. I imaged that Jack was quite used to people telling him they've had a "hellova day." I _couldn't_ imagine any of these scenarios ending well for him, however…

"Been through a bit of an ordeal, I have. Y'see, Janny 'n I are just moseying along, mindin' our own business, yeah? 'N all of a sudden some _massive_ ship starts sailin' right in front o' us. It's a real _official _lookin' ship. Like a Navy ship, but it ain'. Called the Meermin or somethin' or other. Anyways, as I've been sayin', it pulls out o' this silly lit'le port 'n o'course Janny says, well, he says, 'We're in fer some trouble,' 'n he tries to steer 'er away from these jollies. But no, they catch sight o' us anyway and start blowin' _The Maiden_ to smithereens."

"And _why_ did they blow your ship to smithereens?" Jack wasn't stupid, and he _was _apparently sober enough to think logically; he knew that any legitimate captain wouldn't arbitrarily attack an unthreatening vessel.

"Well they recognized it o'course! _The Maiden_ is – _was_ – one o' the most fearsome ships in these Western Waters! That 'n we _maybe_ 'ad our cannons drawn from prior excursion… So, as I was sayin, what's a ship that ain't a Navy ship doin' with cannons, ey?" she continued, "Well that's a damn good question, says I – turns out they be members o' the Dutch East India Tradin' Comp'ny."

"So they – there ain't many of 'em – take me 'n Janny 'n the other survivors on board 'n they ask us whos we is. So Janny, thinkin' fast, like, tells 'em where jus' merchants who've been captured by pirates. Now, we got real lucky on account o' Janny speaks Dutch 'cause 'e used to work for the Comp'ny himself, but none o' the other poor bastards did. So they killed the others 'n they brought us into port, b'fore going back off. Now here we are, stuck in this lit'le speck of a village wit' no ship n' no crew."

"I see. And where might good ole Janny be now, hm?"

"Well, I took the tavern 'n he took the whorehouse. We figgered it were an equal bet in terms o' where we'd find ye."

"He's taking a bit long, isn't he? Shouldn't you be worried? For the sake of the sanctity of your marr-i-age, that is…"

Natalie scoffed. "He always comes back," she dismissed carelessly. "In the meantime," she continued, trailing her hand up Jack's thigh (the one that was _not_ occupied by the derriere of the barmaid, if you're keeping track), "we're both allowed ta 'ave a lit'le fun, as it were."

"I fail to see how all this involves me," Jack interrupted warily.

"Ah, yes, I'm gettin' to that part. Why do ye think we're 'ere, Jackie? Hm? This ain't exactly the most frequently traveled island in the Caribbean, that's fer sure."

"I'm not following."

"We've been sent, boy-o."

"By whom?" he sneered somewhat impatiently.

"'By whom,'" she mimicked, "By the Court, dearie."

"The Court?"

"Aye, ye 'eard me. The Court. The _Brethren _Court. Jack, Jack, Jack, ye didn' think ye'd get away wit' stealin' a fleet o' ships from the _Revenge_, did ye?"

Jack stood abruptly, causing the barmaid to topple off of his lap; she glared up at him venomously, but he paid her no notice. He quickly grabbed a smug Ms. Daggerdale's wrist and dragged her outside, leaving the rest of the crew frozen in shock. Some – namely, the Spritelies and Marty – were either too affected by the alcohol or too _otherwise_ occupied to register what had happened. However, Wentworth and I, only just barely aware, were surprised to say the least. We turned to one another slowly, both mentally contemplating what course of action would be most wise.

Without any verbal exchange whatsoever, we stood in unison and crept towards the exit. He poked his head through the mottled wooden doorway, before stepping out into the pleasant night air. He looked around urgently and then motioned to me that the coast was clear. I stepped out as well, using good Wentworth's arm for support.

We tiptoed to the nearest alleyway; at the time, I remember thinking that we were being incredibly quiet. In reality, however, our footsteps were most likely masked by the sounds of barroom brawls and shattering bottles coming from the neighboring building.

This time, it was my turn to hang my head around the corner. In the shadows, I could just barely make out the figures of two people. I pressed my finger to my lips and nodded to Wentworth; it was them.

I pressed my back up against the paneled wall, shut my eyes, and strained my ears to listen.

"… stealing from a pirate is hardly a capital offense," I heard Jack say insistently, "Plus, it's not as if those ships even belonged to him – they were Blackbeard's!"

"Aye, but there was more'n just the _Pearl_ in that collection, Jack. Ye don't think the others want their ships back as well? Tsk, tsk."

"So what, I just need to go to the Cove and give 'em back their ships and be on me merry way?"

"Sounds 'bout right," Natalie chirped.

"How did you even find me?"

"The Court has eyes everywhere."

"But still, the amount of time it takes for information to travel…"

"Who says we've just started followin' ye?"

There was a brief silence. "Why you?" he asked finally.

"Jackie, ye know that when Cap'n Edward Teague asks ye to do somethin' ye best not say no. Plus, as of late we seem to be in the market for a new ship anyway."

"Teague's the one orchestrating this?"

"Well, Barbossa set the whole thing in motion, to be sure. Had he not said anything, no one would've known. But Teague's the one that sent me, aye. Like I've been sayin', the rest o' the Lords are not pleased – ye obviously do not conduct yer terr'tory in the same way they all do – namely, you've got but one ship at yer command – but that don't mean that they're in the wrong. Those ships belonged to them, same as the _Pearl_ b'longed to ye. It be their right to have 'em back, and, between the two o' us, I don' think ye want the rest of the Pirate Lords angry with ye…"

If these "ships" were indeed in the same state that Jack's was, he had to know that there was a glaring problem: the ships were still in bottles, and only he knew how to restore them. Perhaps he merely did not want to voice this concern, as it would lead to a whole slew of new issues.

"We should go," I quickly whispered to Wentworth. I was sobering up, and he already knew too much. I don't know why I felt the need to keep him ignorant, but I _did _know that Jack most definitely did want this knowledge getting out.

"But I want to find out what's going on," he protested slothfully.

"I'm sure it's nothing," I said. However, he wasn't moving. So, I employed the most effective method I knew of. "Really, I'm sure it has nothing to do with us," I breathed seductively. This seemed to get his attention; I grabbed the front of his shirt and slowly pulled him away from the alleyway.

Perhaps he wouldn't remember anything in the morning.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I hope you all liked it! Another drunken extravaganza... **But is a mermaid's kiss still a Mermaid's Kiss on land? A**pparently rum makes Cassie do crazy and stupid things (*cough I think many people can sympathize with this cough*). It's kind of funny, because historically intoxication has actually been a huge problem for pirates - Calico Jack Rackham's ship, if I'm remembering correctly, was captured because he and his crew were too drunk to fight back, if you can believe it. **

**That being said, I thought it was only appropriate that I base the Daggerdales on Calico Jack and Anne Bonny. Natalie Daggerdale's name was created by a fellow FFN author, NatzSti (if you're reading this, I hope you liked her portrayal!).**

**Also, you should all check out xoxoMyRealityIsFiction's wonderful story, _The Price of Freedom_. I can't link things here, but you can probably find her quickly in the reviews section of this story or search "The Price of Freedom." It's about _Captain _Jack Sparrow and a lost princess, Ayisha.  
><strong>

**Please review, my friends! :)**


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! As always, I'm very honored that you all took the time to tell me your thoughts. I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter XIX<strong>

I awoke to water being poured on top of my head. It was the most distressing, disturbing, and terrifying feeling I have ever experienced; like a surge of lightening had passed through my body. For a brief moment, I thought that I might transform in the presence of… the presence of… the presence of whomever I was with.

But it was just my face and hair that was drenched, to my great fortune.

"Mother of pearl!" I shrieked automatically.

"Rough night?" Sparrow asked cheerily. He looked particularly crazed from this angle.

I turned my soaked head to my left, and then to my right. I hadn't the faintest idea where I was, but I appeared to be outdoors. Next to Wentworth. _Entangled_ with Wentworth.

"Up, up," he instructed, "Or have the pair of you forgotten what day it is?"

"What day is it?" Wentworth asked, groggily stretching out his arms.

"Why, today is the day we set sail, lad. Now get up. Do I have to douse you a second time? Believe you me, you don't want to be coming in contact with that water again if you can help it…"

"We're up!" I insisted, standing abruptly.

As soon as I was on my feet, my vision began spinning and my head felt as if it were splitting wide open. I rushed to a nearby barrel and attempted to steady myself. The air around us was putrid, and I came to realize that we were in some sort of farm area, though I had no recollection of how we'd gotten there. I could do nothing to stop myself from retching up the meager contents of my stomach. I coughed at the sour aftertaste in my mouth and weaseled out of Wentworth's coddling grasp. The _last _thing I felt like doing was dealing with him, that was for certain.

Jack scrunched up his nose in disgust, but looked at me pityingly nevertheless. "Well, now that that's out of your system," he started, "Might we get going?"

Still in shock from how horrendous I felt, I peered up to see Wentworth looking equally sickly. I wondered if he remembered what had happened the prior night…

As Jack began sashaying away, I ran to catch up with him. This was not a wise course of action, for I soon doubled over clutching my stomach once again. He did indeed stop walking, and watched my suffering interestedly.

"Not on my boots _please_," he whined.

"We need to talk," I grit out once the wave of nausea had passed.

"_Now_?"

"Yes. Peter, go ahead. I'll catch up with you."

The other man looked at me quizzically; his expression was one that I hadn't seen many times. He wore one of – dare I say – betrayal. "Alright," he replied skeptically. "If you're sure that's what you want."

"It is," I affirmed. I felt… guilty. But the sentiment passed as soon as he was out of sight.

"Now, what was it you wanted to talk about, love?" Jack asked with a smirk. He was smug, almost as if I'd chosen him over Wentworth.

"Um – er – well, it's about last night."

"Last night? Oh, last _night_. Might it have to do with your little rendez-vous with dear Wentworth outside the tavern?"

"Jack, it's not –"

"It's not what I think? On the contrary, love, it appears that I am spot on. You found it curious that I should need to take my conversation with Ms. Daggerdale outside – that I should need _privacy_, as it were – so, you took it upon your_selves_ to investigate. Darlin', I realize that you and I both know a bit more about each other than the other would like, but I think I've been fairly scrupulous in the amount of information I've released, wouldn't you say? So, the fact that _you_ decided to follow me isn't the problem. The problem _is_ that you brought dear Wentworth with you, and now he's a liability."

"Honestly, Jack, I don't think he remembers any of it – "

"But you can't be sure of that, can you? The answer, if I might be so bold as to reveal it, is no."

"What are you going to do?" I asked, petrified. "You're not going to –"

"Kill him? No, not if it can be avoided. But y'see, love, we're now in very _dangerous_ waters; and once again, it's thanks to you. Don't make me regret – sorry, _further _regret – my decision to allow you to stay on board."

"It really was a mistake…"

"I don't doubt it; just don't make any more of 'em. It's not often that I regret things, and I simply detest the feeling."

I bowed my head repentantly. I hated this… this disappointment. For some reason, I couldn't stand the thought of Jack regretting my presence.

"Lookit you," he commented lightly after a moment. He brought one sullied hand to my chin and raised my face to meet his gaze. "You really are sorry, aren't ye?"

I didn't reply, but my sea-colored eyes searched his desperately.

"You're a strange one, alright… Beautiful, I'll give you that, but awfully strange." He soon released my chin, but I stayed where I was, staring up at him.

"One could say the same about you, Mr. Sparrow," I finally replied. He raised his eyebrows beneath his bandana and grinned at me. "About being strange, I mean," I quickly corrected.

"I get that quite often," he replied gruffly. Another moment passed. "Never met one like you, though," he thought aloud.

"Well, that's saying something, then, isn't it? I imagine you've met many a woman in your day."

"You know that's not what I mean, love."

It was now my turn to raise my eyebrows. "You've met others?"

"A few. Here and there. Know a girl called Marina?" [1]

"You and Marina?" I exclaimed in disbelief.

"Long time ago. I was young, but I do believe _she _was younger. Only lasted a day or two, though, and it didn't end well… Pity… In any case," he continued on a very different note, "we must be getting to the docks. They seem to have sped up the reparations on the _Jewel._"

"That wouldn't have anything to do with the arrival of the Daggerdales, would it?" I asked slyly.

"No, of course not; don't be absurd," he replied with a wink.

"Wait, one more thing before we go," I interjected. He gazed at me expectantly and I squirmed under is full attention. "This – this _person_ who wishes to speak with you… What was his name again?"

"Teague?"

"No, that's not it…"

"Barbossa?"

"Yes! Yes, that's the one… Is he going to be there? At Shipwreck Cove, I mean."

"Well yes, of course… _Why_?" he asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

"Erm – uh – well, I _might_ have come in contact with him before…"

"Come in contact with…? Oh – oh, I see._ He's _the one whose ship you stowed away on, isn't he? That certainly clarifies quite a bit…"

"Yes, about that…"

"Does he know what you are?"

"Yes, I'm sorry…"

"No, no don't be sorry," he said eagerly, "In fact, this could be played quite to our advantage… It's always nice to have an ace in the hole, as it were. He's sure going to regret giving you up once he sees you're with me, the old devil…"

"So I have to see him again, then?"

"Aye, ye do. But really, we must be going…"

Once we _were_ at the docks, I laid eyes upon the man who I presumed to be Jansen Daggerdale for the first time. He was… not what I had expected.

Firstly, he was impossibly tall; probably at least six and half feet high, if not more, and was without a doubt the tallest man I had ever seen. He was also lean, but with sturdy, broad shoulders and a very muscular physique. His unfashionably short hair, despite being naturally blonde, had been so bleached by the sun that it appeared almost white. In fact, the overall appearance of his face had been greatly shaped by the affects of the sun; his skin probably would have been very fair, but years of exposure to the hot Caribbean climate had damaged it to the point where it was freckled and tough. Like the hair on his head, his eyebrows, eyelashes, and stubble had been bleached by the sun and now resembled wispy threads of gold. In terms of his facial structure, he had an oddly shaped nose, a high forehead, and pouted lips; his irises were sun-strained and almost colorless. He was incredibly handsome (in my humble opinion), but wore an expression of great seriousness and dignity as he spoke to the shipbuilder beside the _Jewel_.

Mr. Daggerdale's outfit was not nearly as ornate as it could have been, which made him even more striking, if possible. He donned a simple but dirtied white chemise, which was open from the waist up and revealed not only his toned chest, but also an enormous, jagged scar, under a crisp, blue frock. On his legs, he wore stained calico britches that had several patches of mismatched material and leather, fold-over boots. He held a minimal tricorn, also made of leather, tucked under his arm. The only embellishments he had made to his plain ensemble were two large belts, one around his waist and another across his chest, several intricate rings on his fingers, and a blunderbuss pistol with a gold effigy of a face on the butt [2].

"He doesn't like to be stared at," Jack whispered to me as we neared the other man, "And _do not _– I repeat do _not_ – call him by his nickname."

I couldn't help but ask: "What's his nickname?" despite the fact that Jack was most definitely baiting me.

"Jansen the Giant." … And now, I couldn't get the name out of my mind. Excellent.

"Ah, Jack," he greeted with a heavy accent as he saw us approach. As the two men stood across from one another, I marveled at the height difference. If he was that much taller than Jack, then he must have been nearly a foot and a half taller than I was.

" 'ello, Janny. I take it everything's in order?"

"Aye, it is. We're ready to set out when you are, my friend."

"Is your charming wife already aboard?"

"Yes, as is the rest of the crew… Now, who, might I ask, is this lovely woman at your side, Sparrow?"

"This is Cassiopeia, another member o' the crew."

Jansen took my small hand in his enormous one and brought it gently to his lips. "A pleasure to meet you, my dear," he said suavely. He smiled slightly, and I saw that his teeth were much nicer than any other pirate's I'd come across so far.

"Remember, mate, you're a married man," Jack said with a grin, wagging his index finger teasingly.

"But of course," the other man replied with an apologetic flourish. "Let us step on board."

We did, and soon saw that Gibbs and Natalie were arguing viciously over who should give the orders.

"_I'm _First Mate," Gibbs snarled coarsely.

"Well _I'm _Natalie Daggerdale, ye old cad. Do ye understand what that _means_," she hissed back, drawing her cutlass.

"Now, now," Jack said, putting his arms up to stop the dispute, "no need to quarrel, your captain has returned." He subsequently straightened his tricorn pompously and meandered up to the helm.

" 'ello, love," Natalie greeted happily upon seeing her husband. Her foul temper seemed to be extinguished immediately.

"Hello, my dear," he replied with a dashing smirk.

I watched the exchange between the two sneakily, before taking my place on deck. I was inexplicably fascinated by the idea that two such people – two _pirates_ – should decide to get married. It seemed against the very nature of the freedom that piracy was meant to entail. But who was I to judge?

I soon was able to observe Wentworth quietly going about his duties as well. He looked rather sullen, so I approached him and inquired, "Is everything all right?"

He turned to me rather abruptly and replied, "Hm? Yes, yes of course. Everything is fine. Why wouldn't it be?"

He tried to return to his task of knotting one of the lines, but I wouldn't allow it. "How much do you remember from last night?" I asked.

"Enough," he replied.

"_Specifically_?" I pressured.

"Look, Cassie, I remember what happened between us."

That hadn't been what I was driving for, but it was useful information nonetheless. If he remembered that far into the evening, then it was a safe bet that he remembered what we'd overheard as well. "Peter, we'd both had very much to drink… We really can't be held accountable for our actions…"

"I understand. You think that what happened was a mistake, you made that quite clear this morning."

"Surely you think it was a mistake as well?"

He shot me a pained glance, but said, "Of course."

"What else do you remember?" I continued.

"The rest is a bit foggy… Something about Shipwreck Cove, I believe? That _is _where we're headed right now, after all… Another _detour_…" His tone was uncharacteristically peevish.

"Well," I started quietly, "You mustn't mention the treasure in the presence of the Daggerdales, do you understand?"

"Why not?" he asked bluntly.

"Because the quest will only be complicated by more people. The smaller the party, the better."

"Alright, I suppose that makes sense. Do you think that they can't be trusted, is that it?"

"I don't know, but they _are_ pirates, after all. It's best to be on the safe side. We're just dropping them off in Shipwreck Cove and then heading on our way."

"Really? Is that what _Captain Sparrow_ said?" I'd never heard him sound so bitter.

"Peter, what's gotten into you?"

"Nothing, nothing, I'm sorry I snapped at you," he quickly rectified, "I'm just not feeling well, is all."

"Yes, well, neither am I…" I replied, eyeing him carefully. I wanted the conversation to end before he could demonstrate any more hostility towards me. "I'll talk to you later," I said coolly.

Wenworth was cross with me, it seemed. This was certainly a bit of an issue.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: [1] In a deleted scene from On Stranger Tides, Jack is seen getting slapped by a mermaid named Marina. Just thought it'd be funny to add this in... Cassie's hardly the first mermaid he's ever met. It's also interesting that in the movie the mermaids leave him alone when he's in the water with them. A little odd, no?  
><strong>

**[2] This was something I'd read about years ago, but I thought it was an interesting tidbit to add: some pirates used to use pistols with unique carvings on the butt**, **so that when they clubbed their enemies the imprint would remain. This would effectively allow pirates ot leave their own personal marks on their victims. **

**I'd also like to give another shout out to a fellow PotC author, Evangeline Crystal**. **You should all read her story, _The Secret REVISED EDITION_. It's about everyone's favorite pirate, Captain Jack, and a wonderful heroine named Felicity. It's quite fairytale-like and set in modern times!**

**Anyway, and I hope you all liked this chapter! What do you think of Jansen Daggerdale's characterization, by the way? I tried to be descriptive, but I fear that I might have gotten a bit carried away. I have no idea why I could so easily imagine how this character looks - it's very strange actually, and a bit unsettling... I'd be elated if you'd please review! :D **


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! I hope you all like this one :) I can't believe we're already at chapter 20!  
><strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter XX <strong>

The next night, I took it upon myself to find out just _what_ exactly Shipwreck Cove actually was. I had quickly found that the ultimate source of knowledge for everything having to do with either piracy or mythology was in fact Joshamee Gibbs, so it was only natural that he should be the one I sought out.

"Mr. Gibbs," I said as we sat in the galley for dinner, "What is it about Shipwreck Cove that makes it to special?"

"Well, that be a fine question, lassie," he began, relishing the opportunity to tell a story, "Shipwreck Cove is port on Shipwreck Island which houses Shipwreck City."

"Well, they certainly got creative with the names, didn't they?" I mumbled wryly to myself.

"Aye, that be a fair observation. But Shipwreck Cove is no laughing matter. The city itself is constructed of the ghostly carcasses of ruined ships, amalgamated together into a giant citadel. For Shipwreck Cove be a pirate stronghold, but nay, not just any pirate stronghold; _the _pirate stronghold is more fitting. Naught but the best n' most fearsome scallywags can make the journey through the Devil's Throat and into the Cove."

"Devil's Throat?"

"Aye, Devil's Throat be one o' the most treacherous passages in the Spanish Main. Wide enough for but one ship to pass, and just barely deep enough – the passage itself was only made navigable by the poor souls who lent their lives to the namin' o' Shipwreck Cove. Devil's Throat be the only way into the city, which makes the island a veritable fortress. It's only natural, then, that the Brethren Court should choose it as their meeting place."

"What exactly _is _the Brethren Court?" I asked.

"The Brethren Court consists o' nine Pirate Lords, one o' which be Jack Sparrow, Pirate Lord o' the Caribbean."

"Jack – I mean, Captain Sparrow – is a Pirate _Lord_?"

"Aye, to be sure – and cleverer'n the lot o' them, though ye'd be hard pressed to get any o' them to admit it. Fer a long while, Jack was the youngest – ye can imagine what that meant… In any case, the Lords're now Cap'n Chevalle o' the Mediterranean, Cap'n Villanuova o' the Adriatic, Mistress Ching o' the Pacific, Cap'n Angria o' the Indian Ocean, Gentleman Jocard o' the Atlantic, Cap'n Barbossa o' the Caspian Sea, Ammand the Corsair o' the Black Sea, n' Tai Huang o' the South China Sea. Used to be Sao Feng, then Lizzie, but she 'ad to give it up."

"Lizzie?"

"Aye, Elizabeth Swann, well Elizabeth Turner, now – governor's daughter, turned pirate. Pirate King. Wife o' the Cap'n o' the Flyin' Dutchman."

"She's got quite the repertoire," I commented, "She must have been an interesting character."

"Aye, Jack thought so. He pretended to want nothin' to do wit' her, but I suspect she got about as close to him as anyone… Only person to ever succeed in killin' Cap'n Jack Sparrow to date."

"I'm sorry, _killing_?"

"Aye, she betrayed him and left 'im to the Kraken after givin' him the "Kiss o' Death," as it were. Had to fetch him back from Davy Jones' Locker, we did."

"Then why on earth did he like her?" I asked.

"Cap'n Jack always did enjoy a bit o' a challenge…"

I couldn't help but smirk; somehow, this information didn't surprise me in the least. "Why did she give up her position? Surely she was quite powerful, no?" I asked.

"She decided that her maternal duties overshadowed those of Pirate King," he answered.

"She has a child?"

"Yes, a son, I believe."

"It's not… It's not Jack's, is it?"

"No, no – she's a married woman! The lad's name is William Turner III… And Jack's much more careful 'bout that sort o' thing than ye might think…"

"The Captain of the Flying Dutchman can have children?"

"Apparently."

"So," I continued, lowering my voice to barely a whisper, "is there going to be trouble when the Court convenes? Jack didn't seem too enthused…"

Gibbs raised his bushy eyebrows; "Ye know – "

"Yes, I know about the ships," I cut him off.

"How?"

"I overheard," I replied ambiguously. "Jack knows I know."

"Well," he sighed, "there _shouldn't _be trouble, but when ye have the world's most notorious pirates together in one room, it's more or less inevitable."

This seemed all too true. "Should I be worried?" I asked.

"Nay, it's got nothin' to do with ye. Jack's the one who ought to be worried…"

I didn't realize it until he made this distinction, but it had indeed been Jack that I was referring to when I asked if _I _should be worried. Because if Jack should be worried, so should I. Because I was worried – not for myself, per say – but for Jack. And this was the first time it'd truly dawned on me.

"Oh," I said simply.

There must have been a change in my expression, because he said, "Well I'll be…"

"What?"

"Ye care for 'im."

"For who?"

"For Captain Jack Sparrow, that's who."

"Don't be absurd," I snapped a little too quickly. "I just don't like the thought of having to sail under another captain, is all. Jack's been good to me, I'll give him that – certainly better than most pirate captains would be…"

"It's alright to admit it, lass. I've never once come across a woman who _didn't _grow to care for Cap'n Jack in one way or another."

"What about Elizabeth Swann?" I reasoned.

"I said she didn't 'ave a child with him, not that she didn't care for him."

"But she married someone else."

"There be various _degrees_ of caring, to be sure."

"But she left him for dead!"

"That don't mean she didn't like 'im," he scoffed jovially.

I sighed deeply in defeat. "Be that as it may," I began carefully, "I do _not _care for Captain Sparrow any more than is appropriate for a crewmember to care for his – or in this case, _her –_ captain. I pledge my loyalty to him, but that's the farthest extent of it."

"If ye say so…" he replied, smirking. "Just know that most crewmembers don't generally refer to their cap'n by 'is first name."

I opened my mouth to spit out a reply, but he stood and left before I got the chance. I shook my head in exasperation, before also standing and clearing my plate. I then proceeded to help Natalie, who had prepared the dinner, scrub the dishes.

"How much time do you think it takes to reach Shipwreck Cove?" I asked curiously as we worked.

"I'd say 'bout four more days, weather permittin'," she replied thoughtfully. "Wait 'til ye see it, love. There ain't anythin' on earth quite like it; it's absolutely beautiful."

"Mr. Gibbs said it was made up of actual shipwrecks… Sounds a bit macabre, if you ask me…"

"Spend enough time as a pirate, lassie, and beautiful 'n macabre become one 'n the same," she said sagaciously.

When we were finished cleaning, we went out to the main deck and joined the rest of the crew; it never ceased to amazing just how much alcohol pirates were able to consume. Jack was at the helm with a bottle of rum firmly in the grasp of his left hand, and Gibbs was enthusiastically recounting some sort of nautical tale with his flask clutched tightly. Jansen was drinking as well, but I imagined that a man as large as he could consume a vast quantity of liquor before feeling its effects. Natalie soon took the bottle out of her husband's hand and took a swig herself. I sat beside the Spritelies.

"How have you boys been?" I asked. I hadn't spoken to them in a while, and I felt almost negligent.

"Fine," Tom replied amicably, "You've certainly been a busy bee, haven't you?"

"What do you mean?"

"You've been spending a lot of time with Mr. Wentworth," Tim answered, "_And _Cap'n Sparrow."

"And don't think we didn't see you and Mr. Wentworth the other night," Tom chided, wagging one of the four fingers on his left hand at me disapprovingly.

"You remember that?" I was genuinely taken aback.

"Have you ever noticed," Time continued, seemingly on a tangent, "how Cap'n Sparrow tends to occasionally appear more intoxicated than he really is?"

"It's a clever trick, is it not?" Tom added.

"Very clever," I agreed with a proud smile. I wasn't upset with them, but instead rather impressed; I was surprised that they'd noticed this about Jack. I lowered my voice; "You do know _why_ we are headed to Shipwreck Cove, do you not?"

"To drop off the Daggerdales?" Tim suggested.

"Yes; the less people who know about the treasure, the better, wouldn't you agree?"

"Aye," said Tom, "I must admit, though, despite the fact that it's a detour, I'm rather lookin' forward to seein' Shipwreck Cove."

"I heard that there's a whole quarter of the city that was built using the _bones_ of the people who died making the passage," Tim added.

I furrowed my brow; that didn't sound entirely accurate…

"_I _heard that's where Cap'n Sparrow was born," Tom said.

"No, everyone knows that Cap'n Sparrow was born in a typhoon off the coast of India," Tim reasoned as if it were obvious.

"No, I'm pretty sure he was born in Shipwreck Cove," Tom argued.

"Perhaps he _grew up_ in Shipwreck Cove," Tim snapped, "But he was _born_ in a typhoon."

I could see that this argument was only going to escalate, so I took it as my cue to leave. Mildly intrigued by this minor dispute, I decided that perhaps I ought to settle it for myself and go straight to the source; so, I approached Jack at the helm.

"Captain Sparrow," I began.

"Aye?"

"I have a question for you."

"Is that so?"

"Yes – you see, the Spritely boys are having a bit of an argument about you."

"About me? Bugger, I've met far too many a eunuch in my day..."

It took me a moment to realize what he was implying, but when it set in I quickly corrected, "No, no, you misunderstand – it's nothing like that, I assure you. They're having an argument over the location of your birth."

"The location of me birth, ey?"

"Yes, Tim says that you were born in a typhoon off the coast of India, but Tom says you were born in Shipwreck Cove."

"I'm going to have to go with the typhoon explanation; far more interesting."

"But is that the truth?"

" 'course it is! Whenever there's a question pertainin' to Cap'n Jack Sparrow, ye can always expect that the most interesting option is the correct one."

"I'll keep that in mind," I said dryly. I settled myself beside him against the helm and watched the black stretch of sea before us.

After a moment, he remarked, "I thought you said you had a dispute to settle."

"Oh no, I just wanted to know in order to satisfy my own curiosity; I'll let them decide the correct answer for themselves," I replied.

Jack smirked and cocked an eyebrow. "I've noticed that young Wentworth is angry with you," he commented lazily.

"Angry's a bit of an overstatement; irritated, perhaps?"

"He's avoiding you; every time you approach he moves away."

"That's quite observant of you," I countered.

"Can't help but notice things from up here. But that is in fact a problem, love; we don't need him _'irritated_,' especially not now."

"I understand that," I agreed repentantly. "I tried apologizing, but I think perhaps he just needs time to himself."

"Alright… I'm sure you'll be able to charm him back if necessary, ey?"

"I could try…"

"If ye try, you will most certainly succeed. With a pretty face like that, how could he resist?"

Never in my life had I ever blushed when someone complimented my beauty. It was such a common occurrence that such mentions usually went over my head; I realize that this is quite conceited, but such is the life of a mermaid. The way Jack had said it – he spoke merely as if he were stating a fact, not an opinion. But, for some bizarre reason, I felt my cheeks heat up.

Perhaps Gibbs had been on to something, after all…

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thanks for reading, I hope you all liked it! Please review! **

**P.S. I don't know if anyone cares about this, but in case you are wondering how far they are from Shipwreck Cove: according to the PotC wiki, Shipwreck Cove is located a day's sail off of the northeast coast of South America (in the same general area as Tortuga, I'm assuming). St. Croix, where they started out, is a fair distance from this area, I estimated the total time they would have to travel would amount approximately five days. I don't know if this is accurate, it's just what I gathered from looking at a map of the Caribbean...  
><strong>


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N: Hey, everyone! Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! Sorry this took a lot longer than usual, I had a bit of writer's block. This chapter's much more descriptive than dialogue-oriented, so I hope you don't mind... I had some trouble writing it and I hope it's up to par.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter XXI<strong>

Four days later, we arrived at an enormous cave. The surrounding area was full of verve, marked by the sound of chirping birds and the sight of lush greenery and cascading cliffs. It looked almost as if we were going ashore, but I knew for a fact that we were headed into the darkened grotto; into the Devil's Throat.

As we passed under the earthen archway, I looked up to see stalactites hanging perilously above our heads. If but one fell, our ship could be destroyed. However, despite the ominous sense of danger that permeated the cavern, I couldn't help but marvel at its beauty. Golden shimmers of sunlight were reflected from beneath the surface of the water and danced tantalizingly on the rock walls of the cave, casting a muted, bluish-green hue over the entirety of the area.

While the rest of the crew, too, was enthralled by the magnificence of the spectacle, Jack, Jansen, Gibbs, and Natalie were focused solely on navigating the ship through the treacherously narrow and shallow passageway. Jack, who was steering, had an uncharacteristic look of utter concentration displayed across his face. Luckily, the _Poseidon's Jewel_ was not nearly as large as some of the other ships he had brought through the passage and was thus able to sail through the grotto without touching the sides.

As we traveled further into the tunnel, however, the breadth grew narrower and the light grew dimmer.

"Light the lanterns," Jack commanded once we were in almost complete darkness.

We did as was instructed, and soon the small, warm flames were the only things illuminating our way. The orangey glow bounced off the ebony water and damp walls, creating a ghostly shadow of the _Jewel_'s silhouette.

I looked back at Jack, who was wearing the same expression as before. The candlelight distorted his features slightly, highlighting the sharp curve of his cheekbones and making his eyes appear blacker than ever.

It struck me suddenly that I didn't like to see him serious. It worried me.

And I didn't know if this newfound solemnity was a product of his focus on navigation, or his anticipation of coming events. Whichever it was, I hoped that this state was very temporary.

"Are all the Pirate Lords already there?" I asked Gibbs.

"Aye, I assume so. It ain't an easy feat to get the nine Lords in one place, but I reckon the prospect of new ships is incentive enough for most. One thing is for certain: Cap'ns Barbossa n' Teague are most definitely awaiting our arrival; n' ye be warned, this pair be a fearsome enough duo on their own."

"Who is Captain Teague," I asked, "You didn't name him as one of the Pirate Lords, so why is he so important?"

"Cap'n Teague is the Keeper of the Code – he's the mediator between the Pirate Lords, n' what he says is law."

"Is he really powerful enough to keep them all in check?"

"Aye, and ye'd do well not to question the authority o' Cap'n Teague if ye want to live to see yourself grow old, lassie."

"Is even Jack subservient to him?" I couldn't imagine Jack taking orders from _anyone_, regardless of how powerful they were.

"Oh yes, more'n most, even. Cap'n Teague is his father."

"His _father_?"

"Aye, his father. If ever there was a man who could keep Cap'n Jack in check, it'd be Edward Teague."

"Why is his own father trying to get him into trouble?" I questioned in disbelief.

"He ain't tryin' to get him into trouble, per say, just uphold the law. The Pirata Codex takes precedence over all else, includin' familial ties." He lowered his voice slightly, "Those ships ought to be returned to their rightful owners, accordin' to pirate law."

"Pirate law?"

"Aye, it exists, believe it or not."

"But Jack only has an interest in the _Pearl_, correct?"

"Aye…"

"So, why does he even want to have those other ships?"

"S'pose he'd like 'em as bargaining chips, as it were. Plus, it's always useful to have a spare ship… or a _dozen_ spare ships…"

"But if he just hands them over, everything will be fine, right?"

"Well, they ain't exactly in useable condition, as it were. N' the rest o' the Lords know one thing about Cap'n Jack Sparrow that'll never cease to ring true: he will stop at nothing to make the _Pearl_ his. Hell, he even sold 'is soul to Davy Jones in order to bring 'er back from the darkest depths of the ocean. Ye can bet that they're gonna suspect he's got a plan to restore 'er to 'er rightful state, aye?"

"I see," I said delicately.

"But Jack's got a God-given gift when I comes to _communicatin'_ wit' people, so we'll see if 'e can get 'imself outta this mess…"

A matter of hours later, a dim light appeared at the end of the tunnel. I say dim, because it was not a natural. It was not sunlight, which made sense because we had spent the whole of the day in the Devil's Throat.

"Jack, is that our destination?" I called loudly up to the helm. I only realized what I had said after it was too late. I was met with several bewildered glances, most notably from Wentworth and the Spritelies. Although, perhaps Wentworth's wasn't as bewildered as it was sullen.

"Aye, 'tis," he replied smoothly; he didn't seem aware of my slip-up.

As we grew nearer, I was able to make out the vague outline of the city itself. It was very jagged, which could easily be attributed to the nature of its construction. There were small, bright, and seemingly random patches of light scattered throughout the manmade structure. After the actual details of the city began to take shape, I instantly understood Natalie's previous comment. Macabre, it might have been; but it was indisputably beautiful just the same.

"Wow," I breathed, awestruck.

"She's really somethin', ain't she?" Gibbs agreed heartily.

Shipwreck City was an eerie accrual of half-ships, quarter-ships, and just vacant stretches of wood. The styles of the building materials varied greatly, from decadent and ornate to crude and simple. Masts and booms jutted out indiscriminately throughout, almost like branches off of a tree. There was no way it could be stable, and yet small human figures scurried about without any sense of worry. There were, as was necessary, docks distributed throughout the island. Several ships stood out; in particular, the _Queen Anne's Revenge._ Barbossa was here, just as Gibbs and the Daggerdales had said he would be.

After we had brought the ship into the marina, Jack announced, "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Shipwreck City! This be the only place in the whole of the Caribbean where pirates reign free and 'respectable' men are the hunted. Never have your gentle eyes laid gaze on this type of divine, anarchical chaos; 'cept, maybe, if ye've been to Tortuga. _However_, unlike the proliferous bouquet that is Tortuga, Shipwreck City is not inhabited solely by gutter rats and piratical hopefuls. Nay, Shipwreck City is filled with a considerably more elite circle of miscreants, so you'd best mind yourself. The punishment for just about every manner of crime on this boneyard is death, typically enforced by the offendee him or herself… I have a _special_ order of business that I must take care of, so you all are going to be left to your own devices, as it were. So, try not to get yourselves killed."

With that, he stepped regally from the side of the ship and onto the dock. Everyone else followed suit as the Spritelies secured the ship. Gibbs de-boarded with a large sack in his grasp, presumably one that contained the ships in question.

Soon after we had entered the thick of the city, Jack, Gibbs, and the Daggerdales began to part ways with the rest of us. I jogged to catch up with them and asked Jack, "So, that's it, then? You're just going to leave us?"

"Don't tell me you wish to join us, love," was his response.

"Well, yes, I do," I sputtered.

"And why, pray tell, is that?"

"Because," I started, "I don't do well on my own in these sorts of places."

"Ah, that I cannot dispute…" he admitted.

"So, I can come with you?" I inquired hopefully.

"Aye, I s'pose so… I _would_ like Barbossa and Teague to see this little prize of mine, that's for certain…"

"I'm no 'prize'!" I insisted defiantly.

" 'course not, love. But they won't see it that way… The Pirate Lords are quite keen on displaying their spoils, and I'd say you're just as impressive as any gold sword or silver chalice."

I was not fond of being objectified (to put it lightly), but I would allow him to think of me as a bit of treasure if it would enable me to see the other Pirate Lords. So, I swallowed my indignation and followed them forward, trying to ignore the knowing smirks from the other three members of the party.

The streets of Shipwreck City were littered with the most fascinating assortment of derelicts I had ever seen. Firstly, you'd be hard-pressed to find a bystander with all his limbs and eyes; it seemed that nearly everyone had a peg-leg, a hook for a hand, or an eye-patch (_or_ a combination of all three), all of varying degrees of opulence or dearth.

As we walked, I noticed that we were headed towards a towering wooden gate that stood at least three stories high and attached to the stern of an enormous ship. Everything seemed to be centered around this entrance, and just outside it were numerous caravans of differing goods, ranging from foodstuffs to textiles.

We passed a tavern, called "The Cutlass," that seemed to be one of the most popular haunts on the island. There was a line at the front, and the sounds coming from within indicated that it was quite the lively place to drink and gamble and engage in such other forms of debauchery. I didn't doubt that this was where the rest of the crew would end up at some point or another.

And then, we reached the gates.

Surprisingly, they were guarded; this implied some sort of organization that I didn't think possible in such a place.

The watchmen were of indeterminable race or ethnicity, and wore clothing with both Western and Eastern traits.

"Name," one demanded bluntly.

"_Captain _Jack Sparrow," Jack drawled languidly, "And crew."

"Identification?"

Jack made an offended face. "You don't know who I am, mate?" he sneered.

"All who wish to pass through require identification, _Captain _Sparrow."

Jack begrudgingly drew up his sleeve and exposed a tattoo of a sparrow passing over the water with the sun setting in the background.

"I suppose that'll do," said one of the guards, "Sorry 'bout the confusion, Lord Sparrow."

"That's right," Jack said, grinning cheekily, "_Lord_ Captain Jack Sparrow, innit?"

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes as we followed him through the now-open gates.

The inside of the building was much darker than the streets had been, and the only illumination was produced by candles lining the walls. Many different hallways split off from where we were walking, but Jack appeared to know precisely where he was going. So, we continued straight, all the way to a large, rectangular door at the end of the hall.

It was clear that the structure wasn't originally made with the ship; it didn't quite fit the doorway and allowed a large amount of light to pass underneath.

Jack slowly put one of his dirty hands on the gigantic brass doorknob and held it there for dramatic effect. Finally, he twisted it and pushed forward.

In front of us was a huge table, which stretched almost the entire length of the room. The atmosphere was significantly brighter than that of the hallway, thanks to a large, wrought iron chandelier and various other candles scattered throughout the room. Just in front of the door lay great globe with several swords stuck into it.

"Welcome to Pirate Hall," Jack muttered dryly as he unsheathed his cutlass and drove it into the Caribbean. I wondered if I ought to do so as well, but saw that Gibbs and the Daggerdales retained their weapons and therefore did the same.

There were already several people seated around the table, including one man I easily recognized as Barbossa.

" 'ello, chums," Jack said cheerily as he sauntered into the light. I hung close behind him, not wanting to be spotted by Barbossa.

All of a sudden, someone emerged from the he shadows at the back of the room. As soon as I got a look at him, I realized an indisputable fact; he was Jack's father. He was Edward Teague.

His hair, if possible, was even more elaborate than his son's and had two large golden crosses entwined into it; surprisingly, his locks (if they can be called such) were still mostly black. On the top of his dark head lay an ostentatious feathered bicorn. He, too, had dark kohl smeared around his eyes and wore an outfit vaguely similar to Captain Sparrow's. However, his face was rugged and battle-hardened, with deep creases and a decidedly aged appearance. All in all, he looked exactly how I imagined Jack might look in about thirty years' time.

" 'ello, Jackie," he greeted with a startlingly familiar golden-toothed grin.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I hope you all liked it! Please leave me a review! The next chapter will be much more exciting, I promise :)**


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! Sorry updates have been a little slower than usual, I've been a bit busy... I hope you all enjoy this chapter!**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter XXII<strong>

" 'ello, Dad," Jack replied cautiously.

"We brought 'im back for ye, just like ye asked us," Natalie asserted cheerily.

"Aye, that you did, pet," Teague replied. "You and your husband may leave now, this doesn't concern ye."

"But –"

Jansen put a hand on his wife's shoulder to silence her. "Yes, sir," he replied with great respect.

Once the couple was gone, Barbossa drawled, "So good of you to make it, Jack" from his seat.

"Yes, well, I _am_ a member of this Court, am I not? Although, it seems were are missing a few… attendees."

His eyes darted around the table, jumping from a large African man in some sort of tribal attire, to a man wearing makeup. He, unlike his hulking companion, wore a wig and decidedly frilly frock, with smears of rouge on his cheeks; almost like the women with painted faces I'd seen in Tortuga. The last person at the table was a very tanned and stocky man, with a thick leather vest and a feathered, broad-rimmed hat and a graying beard.

Jack was blocking me from getting a good view; however, every time I tried to poke my head out to observe the company, he moved and thus concealed my presence.

"Aye," Teague concurred, "Not all the Pirate Lords saw it fit to attend this gathering, seeing as they hadn't been impacted by the wrath of ole Blackbeard; Edward Teach 'imself was against the code in attackin' another pirate without the chance o' parlay – a grave offense. Because his prizes were taken illegally, it is now necessary that they be redistributed."

"Mistress Ching's got a veritable fleet at her command," Barbossa added, "N' the others? Well, the other's either didn' get the message or they ain't interested. Either or. Our friends in the East most certainly were not robbed by the dead bastard, so they've no business here… And I see ye've brought yer faithful dog with ye, as always," he spat in reference to Gibbs. I glanced from one to the other, and it became very apparent that there was some bad blood between the two.

"_Actually_," Jack answered, "We left the dog on the ship." His tone was somewhat more annoyed than usual, and I could see that Barbossa brought out a different side of him.

"_Excusez-moi_," the powdered man butted in, "But who is _la belle jeune fille_?" [1]

"Ah, Chevalle, you old goat," Jack said with a grin, "Nothing gets passed you, does it?"

The Frenchman merely raised his darkened brows pompously and stared. Eventually, Jack gave in and stepped aside so I could be seen.

"She's a fine one, Sparrow, even for _you_. Such _pelo rojo_," the short man with a thick Spanish accent laughed. [2]

I locked my gaze on Teague, interested to see what his response might be. He didn't seem impressed or appreciative, but pensive. He looked like a man who'd seen a thing or two in his day, so I didn't doubt that he had an inkling as to what I was; especially given the fact that I was traveling with his son, who'd acquired a reputation in his own right.

I quickly decided that I didn't enjoy being put on display and tried to shrink back behind Jack. We were very, very close, and I could smell the scent rum and spices wafting off of him.

Just when they all seemed to have adequately soaked in my appearance, Barbossa cut in, "Wait a moment; come into the light, lass."

Jack smirked at this and gently nudged me forward. His hand lingered on the small of my back, and I found that I didn't mind at all; in fact, I found it reassuring.

"It can't be," muttered Barbossa.

"What is it, mate?" Jack baited.

"That _girl_."

"My dear Cassiopeia?"

"Aye, that be her name, true enough," he croaked. His and was outstretched, almost as if he expected me to approach him. I intended to do no such thing, and instead glanced back at Jack nervously.

He took this signal, grabbing my wrist in a false show of possession. He pulled me back to his side and asked, "What about 'er?"

"I've seen 'er before…"

"Enough with the girl!" the man in the tribal garb boomed, slamming his open palm on the table. His voice was rich and intimidating. "I want my ships," he demanded.

"And you'll get them!" Jack assured him, waving his hands about wildly. He motioned for Gibbs to bring him the sack, and then proceeded to dump the contents onto the table before them. Around a dozen glass bottles spilled out, each containing a different ship.

"_Qu'est-ce que c'est __cette folie_?" Capitaine Chevalle demanded in outrage. [3]

"Well, it's just what you asked for," Jack answered coolly.

"What is this witchcraft?" the same tall man, who I surmised to be Gentleman Jocard, questioned.

"You knew of this," the Spaniard, Villanueva, accused Barbossa.

"Aye, I knew of it," he shot back defensively.

"What are we supposed to do with these – these _bottles_?" said Chevalle in his heavy accent.

"Beats me," Jack replied dismissively, "You all are the ones who summoned _me_ here. I'd have thought you had a plan – you _did _seem so adamant…"

"You tricked us," Jocard shouted at Barbossa.

"Tricked? Nay! Left out some details? Well, perhaps…"

"This was a waste of time," Villanueva added, "I sailed all the way from the Adriatic for _this_?"

"Aye, _Lord _Barbossa, you did in fact fail to mention this very significant _detail_," Teague said.

"Ships're ships," the man in question began, "Should they not be divvied up as fit?"

"To what end," Chevalle replied, "I did not come here for some trinket to display on my mantel!"

I briefly turned my attention to Jack; he seemed very content to simply watch the exchange. In fact, he rather seemed to be enjoying it. Teague seemed to have taken a stance similar to that of his offspring, and was seen lounging in an armchair whilst strumming away at a guitar.

It was Jocard who spoke next; "This is no mere trinket," he explained, "But the product of the supernatural. These are our ships, aye, but not as we knew them. Blackbeard used some black magic to get them into this state."

"So it is reversible?" Villanueva questioned.

"I do not know," Jocard replied.

"That would be an excellent question for our dear Captain Sparrow, would it not?" Barbossa interjected.

Jack held up his hands in surrender. "Don't lookit me," he said.

"C'mon, Jack. We all know ye'd stop at nothin' to make the _Pearl _yers. Ye've either figgered out how ta change 'em back, or yer in the process of doin' so."

"Hector is right," Chevalle agreed.

"Aye," said Jocard.

"_Si_, any man who would sell his soul for a ship would go to any other lengths to bring her back," Villanueva reasoned.

"Is this true, Jackie?" asked Teague, "Do ye really know how to restore these ships to their original state?"

"I – " Jack stammered.

"Ye know that it be against to code to withhold valuable information from the Company; ye swore to this the day ye became a Pirate Lord."

"Alright, I admit, I _may_ _possibly_ know of a way; but it is daft and very perilous – well, _more_ daft and perilous than my usual endeavors, in any case. And I shall only tell ye the information, but nothing more. What ye do with it is your own prerogative."

"Go on," Jocard prompted impatiently.

He shot the other man an irked glance, but continued nevertheless. "I have been informed by a certain clandestine source –"

"_Qui_?" Chevalle demanded. [4]

Jack sighed; "An old friend, I doubt you know 'er. _Anyway_, said source brought it to my attention that there be but _one_ way to reinstate these ships."

"And what is this way!" asked Villanueva.

Sparrow, sufficiently tired of being interrupted, said, "Will ye just give me a bloody moment, I'm gettin' to it! Right. As I'd been sayin'. The only way to reinstate these ships requires a trip to Atlantis and a drop o' blood from their chief."

"Atlantis?" Villanueva said, "That's hogwash. No such city exists, at least not anymore."

"No, it does indeed exist," Jocard said regally. "I have seen it with my very own eyes. It is not a place easily come by, however. I must know, who is your friend who gave you this information?"

"Cecily. Of Isla Flotante," Jack caved in finally with an exasperated roll of his eyes.

"You mean _Circe_, boy," Teague said, setting down his guitar.

Jack smirked slightly. "She's goin' by Cecily nowadays, Da. But I can see it's been a while…"

Chevalle started, "The goddess Circe – "

"Sorceress, not goddess, mate," Jack corrected insolently. "Apollo wasn't kind enough for that." [5]

"She is immortal nonetheless, so it matters not," the Frenchman snapped haughtily. "Circe cannot be trusted – she hates men and will stop at nothing to lead them to their deaths. I refuse to put my trust in such a fiend."

"Then don't," Jack said indifferently. "All I know is _I _plan on finding Atlantis and bringing me ship back to its glory, savvy? What _you_ all do is none of my concern."

"There have been a few men," Jocard started, looking from Teague to Jack (the father and son seemed to be sharing a secret, self-satisfied smirk), "to whom the witch imparts valuable information. Odysseus was one. I do not doubt that Sparrow was another."

"Aye, Jack seems ta have a way wit' vicious beasts… 'Specially those o' the _feminine_ variety," Barbossa concurred, staring directly at me. This did not slip Sparrow's notice.

"Well," he started warily, "this little tête-à-tête seems to be over, so, if you don't mind, I'll be on me way. If any of ye mangy scoundrels needs me, I'll be at the Cutlass."

With that, he strode out the door, towing me behind by my wrist. Gibbs followed loyally and I couldn't help but notice the dog-like quality in him that Barbossa had pointed out.

"Did that go as planned, Cap'n?" he asked when we were out of earshot.

"Perfectly," Jack answered bluntly. It was impossible to tell whether or not he was being serious.

Once we were outside, I said, "Jack, you can let go of me."

"Oh. Right. Of course," he said, releasing me immediately. It might have been my imagination, but he seemed mildly flustered.

"Are we really going to the Cutlass?" I asked.

"O' course!" he answered jovially. There was still a line of people at the entrance, but Jack bypassed all of them. There was an angry uproar, to which he replied, "Oi, I'm Captain Jack Sparrow. Shut it." Shockingly, he was, for the most part, obeyed. He sashayed in; the atmosphere was just as I expected: dim, dusty, sweaty, loud, and smelly, like all the other taverns we'd visited. I soon spotted the rest of the crew, but Jack didn't seem interested in joining them.

"Everyone else is over there," I stated.

To which he replied, "I know."

"Then why aren't we going to them?" I asked as he led us to the opposite side of the room.

"Because we're not done," he answered simply.

"What do you mean?"

"You'll see."

The three of us sat down at a vacant table. "What now, Jack?" Gibbs inquired gruffly.

"Now, we wait," he replied with a shadow of a smirk playing across his lips.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Translations, for those of you who are curious: **

**[1] "Excuse me, who is the pretty young lady?" (French)  
>[2] "Such red hair." (Spanish)<br>[3] "What is this madness/folly?" (French)  
>[4] "Who?" (French)<br>If any of these are wrong, feel free to correct me. **

**As for [5], I made this up... Apollo used to do this sort of thing (fall in love and then fall out of love), if I'm remembering my mythology correctly. It varies by source as to whether or not Circe is a goddess or a nymph or a sorceress, etc., but I'm going with sorcereress...  
>So yeah! Pretty please review :)<br>**


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N: Hey, everyone! Thank so much to shippolove844, Evangeline Crystal, xoxoMyRealityIsFiction, Kirsty Mikelsons, and sunnydayz56 for reviewing! I hope you all are still enjoying this story... Anyway, this next chapter is game-changing...**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter XXIII<strong>

"And what, exactly, is it that we are waiting _for_?" I inquired.

"All in good time, all in good time…" Jack answered ambiguously. He flagged down a barmaid and ordered a pint of beer.

"Certainly, Captain Sparrow," she replied with a girlish giggle. I grit my teeth and suppressed the desire to scoff as he grinned at her fetchingly. I noticed Gibbs observing the pair of us, and I quickly fashioned a mask of disinterest. The last thing I wanted to do was add fuel to the fire, as it were…

"Cap'n" Gibbs started, "Where be the exact coordinates of the Lost City?"

"The center o' the Triangle," he answered simply. "Haven't you heard the legends?"

"Aye, I have, but I'd just as soon presumed ye'd be usin' yer compass to lead us there."

Jack shook his head, causing his hair ornaments to clang. "Nay, me compass don't work in the Triangle. Nor does any other sort o' bewitched device... Or _normal_ device, for that matter," he added as an afterthought.

"So the legends are true, then?" Gibbs continued, "_All_ of them?"

"Never been there. But if I'm to place my bet based on experience, then aye. Jocard seemed to know what 'e was talkin' about, and 'e didn' seem too _enthused_ by the prospect o' going back."

"Aye, and somethin' that's got Jocard flustered don't bode well for the rest o' us…"

"True enough. But don't worry 'bout that, mate. I've got a plan," he said with a sly grin, glancing covertly at me.

Gibbs and I shared a puzzled expression, but let it go. I was too disturbed by the prospect of Barbossa discovering us to make any attempt at sorting his riddles.

"Jack, if Barbossa should come…" I whispered.

"As I expect he shall," he finished.

"Yes… Shouldn't Mr. Gibbs be… _made aware_ of the situation?"

His eyebrows disappeared beneath his bandana. "Is that what ye'd like?"

I thought for a moment. _Was it?_ Surely Gibbs was just as well traveled as Jack; the discovery should not shock him. Although, it _might_ horrify him… He was already wary of women as it stood.

"He can be trusted?" I hissed.

"Aye. Ye can be trusted, can't ye, Gibbs?" Jack asked his companion, whose mutton-chopped face was already buried under the rim of his mug.

"Aye, 'course I can!"

"Well, there you have it," Jack answered lazily. Gibbs' response hadn't exactly been comforting, and Jack knew it.

I sighed deeply; I was extremely nervous and hadn't the slightest idea how to broach the subject. Clearing my throat absurdly, I started, "Mr. Gibbs, I think there is some information you might benefit from learning."

His Adam's apple bobbed in his throat as he completed a gulp of the amber liquid. He wiped the foam from his whiskers with the back of his hand, before replying, "Oh, n' what is that?" He was endearingly oblivious.

I looked to Jack for help. "Oi, this was _your _idea, love," he said, shirking involvement.

"Well, Mr. Gibbs," I stuttered, "Hm. I really don't know the best way to phrase this…"

"Out wit' it, lass!" he instructed impatiently.

"I'm a mermaid!" I said in a hushed declaration.

Gibbs studied me for a moment, before bursting into a hearty fit of laughter. "That's a good one, lass," he sniffed, brushing a stray tear from the corner of his eye.

"I'm serious," I insisted, taken aback by his reaction.

"_Id est, s_he's not kidding," Jack piped in; his inflection made it seem as if he was mocking me, and I didn't doubt that he'd done it intentionally.

"Lass," Gibbs began gravely, "mermaids be deadly, vicious creatures, borne from hatred and spite. Their sole purpose be to extact revenge on mankind for the ill-treatment of _one_ enraged sorceress. Tear the flesh from a man's bones, she will, but not b'fore seducin' 'im wit' 'er feminine wiles 'n devilish beauty. They're beasts, same as sharks n' other vile menaces of the deep."

I glanced at Jack out of the corner of my eye, and saw that his hand was placed conveniently over his mouth. However, the twinkle in his eye told me he was resisting the urge to snicker.

"_You_," Gibbs continued with unprecedented grammatical prowess, "do not possess any o' the aforementioned traits. Why, just then in the Hall ye were as frightened as a lamb amongst wolves! Ye said naught but a word and stayed by 'is side like a chick to a hen!" He'd motioned to Jack during the last part. Jack made a face, displeased with the fact that he'd been compared to a type of fowl - a _female_ one, no less. "Plus," Gibbs said, "there be certain _ways _to identify the wretches…"

"I'm telling the _truth_," I contended. "Tell me, what ways?"

"Well, for one, alcohol is poison to a mermaid." _Wrong_. "They drink copious amounts of water when on land." _Wrong._ " 'N they revert back ta their true form wit' even one drop o' water." _Also wrong._ _This one doesn't even make sense in accordance with the other. _"They cannot resist the sight o' blood…" _Getting a tad warmer… _"On a Sunday night in the light o' the moon, 'er face contorts to the demon's it really belongs to." _Alright, now this is just ridiculous…_

"Look, what do I have to do to prove it to you?" I asked.

"Show me yer tail," he joked.

I let out a breath of exasperation; "_Well_, I can't do that. I'm being completely honest."

"She really is telling the truth," Jack finally said solemnly. He had an uncanny talent for re-phrasing everything I said...

"Yer in on this too?" he asked his friend.

"Not 'in on it,' per say, but aware, aye. I've known for a while now."

"Yer both pullin' me leg."

"No, we're not. Lookit 'er, mate. How often do ye come across a lass like that?"

Gibbs eyed me skeptically. "Not often," he admitted.

"Do you remember how I was walking strangely when we first met? How I was able to sing away the sirens?"

"N' how Cecily wanted 'er," Jack added.

"Yer tellin' the truth?" he asked in disbelief.

"Yes, how many times must I say it?" I complained.

Suddenly, Jack perked up and straightened in his chair. I followed his line of sight, and noticed Barbossa walking towards us through the crowd.

"This'll all make much more sense to you now," Jack hissed over his shoulder to Gibbs.

Without a word, Barbossa pulled out a chair and sat in front of us.

"What can I do for you, Hector?" the dreadlocked captain asked cheerily.

"I'd like ta know," he began, "what heinous twist o' fate allowed _you_ ended up with _her_."

"_She_ found _me_, mate."

"Be that as it may, I'll be wantin' 'er back."

"_Excuse me_?" I demanded.

"I saw 'er first, makes 'er mine."

"I do not _belong_ to anyone!" I spat venomously.

"Not yet, at least…" Barbossa mumbled. "Tell me, darlin', what be yer name."

"Cassiopeia," I stated firmly. He knew this. _Why was he asking?_

"Aha, just as I remember. So now tell me this: who _gave _ye that name. It's the same as when I first met ye, so I'm presumin' ye gave it to yerself…"

_Oh, no, no, no! No! He couldn't – he can't! How does he know? _

"It's dangerous, what you're proposing," Jack stated grimly.

"Don' ye think I know that, Sparrow? I'm not a fool. But there's more'n one way to make a _mermaid_ useful – 'specially when it comes to information… So I'm askin' ye, _Cassiopeia_, did ye name yerself?"

"No, I did," Jack cut in urgently. "I gave it to her. I _name_ her Cassiopeia."

All of a sudden, a burst of color exploded behind my eyes, as if I'd been struck. My chest – my _heart_ – swelled to an extent that I didn't think possible. I thought I might collapse. My body was numb, but at the same time so overheated. So full of emotion. So full of _feeling._

So full of… love. The word. It was dangerous, true enough, just as Jack had warned. I felt a line of pure adoration tethering me to him. I was bound to him. I was in love with him. _We _were bound. _We _were in love.

All because he'd spoken the words.

I snapped my head to look at him wildly. He, too, felt the attachment; that was the price. He had just given himself a new weakness.

His eyes widened momentarily, after having experienced something similar to what I had, I imagined. But he recovered smoothly.

"I believe ye mean ta say _named_," Barbossa growled viciously, "Or as I can see now, ye obviously didn't."

"Hm?" Jack grunted, his voice cracking. "What? Oh – oh yes. _Named_. That's it. I did – I _named_ her Cassiopeia. Sorry, mate. Now scurry off."

"Yer mad, Jack. And this is even madder'n usual. Ye've sacrificed yer soul before, but the heart is another matter entirely. It's best not ta gamble yer heart wit' a monster, 'specially not wit' a monster than can now be used as _leverage_. N' love is the _ultimate _renouncement o' freedom."

"But now she is of use to me and _only_ me," he said, carelessly inspecting his fingernails. "Plus, I feel completely fine. So much of mermaid lore _is _only legend, after all… It's not in your best interest to cross me, mate. How else do you intend to find the City? You _know_ it's not as simple as just sailin' into the Triangle…"

Barbossa faltered.

"Ah," Jack said with a smile, "now there's a good lad. Why don't ye run along and prepare the _Revenge._ We sail at dawn."

The older man clamored angrily to his feet (_foot_) and hobbled indignantly to the door. He turned and flashed Jack one more menacing look, before leaving.

I felt… I _felt_.

I felt more than I ever had. Everything. _Love_. I'd never felt more alive. I'd never felt more _vulnerable._

Why had he done it? It was so utterly _stupid_. It compromised both of us. _To make sure Barbossa couldn't have me_. It was an act of possession. He had marked me as _his._ And I couldn't find it in my heart to care; that was the worst part of it. He had just completely robbed me of my _freedom_, as Barbossa had put it, and I wasn't even upset in the slightest.

"_Jack_" I breathed amorously.

"I know," he grit out. He seemed almost as if he were in pain.

"Would someone please explain what in the bloody hell is goin' on?" Gibbs demanded. "Ye two look like a pair o' love-struck pansies!"

"When one names a mermaid," I started carefully, "The two become _bound_ to one another. Because of this, the various _methods_ that can be employed to extract information from a mermaid are now null and void. Jack has made it so I only will be willing to help him. My song will not affect him. I will not feel bloodlust. I will protect him from all danger while in the water. Such is the consequence of naming a mermaid… But the deed is not without its cost to the one who names her. Jack is now bound to me as well, in an emotional sense."

"Jesus, Mary, n' Joseph," Gibbs muttered. "Is it reversible?"

"Yes," I said, "He can break the spell, when the time comes."

"I don't think it worked properly," Jack remarked nonchalantly. He was in denial. He had to be.

"Never – not in _all_ the years we've sailed together – have I seen that look in yer eye, Jack. Somethin's changed."

The man in question mumbled some profanity under his breath, and it dawned on me that this was the first time I'd heard him _really_ swear.

I suddenly experienced the overwhelming urge to cry, and I hadn't the faintest clue as to _why_. I wasn't sad. I wasn't unhappy. In fact, the sensation was _pleasant_, of all things. It felt as if the blood in my veins had just started moving for the first time.

"You cannot deny the connection." It was a statement, no room for dispute.

"Cassie, I'm sorry, but this wouldn' be the first time voodoo magic didn't work on Captain Jack Sparrow." He called me by my name, deliberately avoiding the use of the word "love"; I didn't understand why he was fighting it.

"This isn't 'voodoo' magic, as you put it. It is law. It is a force of nature. It is all right to succumb to it," I said. I brought one of my hands up to his face and traced the tips of my fingers along his jaw line, watching in fascination as his eyes fluttered closed. It was clear that I was evoking some sort of stirring within him.

Gibbs eyed us in disgust. "Per'aps I oughtta leave you two alone…" he started.

"No!" Jack ordered hastily. "You mustn't do that. You mustn't leave us alone. _Ever_. Do you understand? I'm your captain; you must obey." I didn't think I'd ever seen him so adamant about anything.

"If ye say so… But ye look as if ye _want_ ta be left alone."

"Yes, and that's exactly the problem."

"A'right," he said tentatively, before taking another long swig from his mug.

This was certainly not the sort of problem either Jack or I or Gibbs was used to dealing with, to say the least. We were out of our element.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: So, as I hope I made clear, when someone names a mermaid, the two of them are bound together. While Jack and Cassie will now feel as though they're in love, it's really just the spell. Certainly puts an interesting spin on Philip and Syrena's relationship, doesn't it? As far as I know, I made this myth up - although it's entirely possible that someone else already thought of it. **

**I'd really love to hear your thoughts! Please review :)**


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N: Hi guys! I know it's been a while, but I promise you I have absolutely not abandoned this story. For me, this is more of a summer thing (I'm just weird like that... I'm more in the mood to write POTC when I'm at the beach and it's warm, etc. The atmosphere has to be right...). But there's been kind of an insurgence of popularity for this fic since I last left off, so I thought I'd give you guys a little something more to read. Don't get too optimistic - I probably won't update this again for a while, seeing as I'm working on another Sherlock Holmes story too. But I guarantee that if you stick it out until the summer I'll definitely finish this. **

**As always, thanks so so much to everyone who's reviewed! I hope you all like this chapter :)**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter XXIV<strong>

It wasn't long before the rest of the crew spotted us. People talked, and it was clear that Jack was quite the celebrity, _especially_ in Shipwreck Cove.

It was strange. What I felt for Jack was definitely love, but it was a type of love that had a protective, platonic component to it; there was something about it that was almost maternal_._ True enough, the emotion that I was experiencing was not devoid of carnal desire. But there was a part of me that simply wanted to be with him. To be near him. To make sure that he was safe.

However, I can't say if this sort of guardianship was what _he_ was experiencing as well. From the way he looked at me, with heavily lidded eyes and dilated pupils, I surmised that it wasn't. There was something distinctly and solely lustful about his behavior. But, having said that, there was _always_ something distinctly lustful about his behavior. Perhaps this was simply the only way he knew how to show affection – he was only accustomed to physical intimacy.

Although, it did seem very plausible that the wicked gods should choose to cast such spell on two people, such a spell that made them in love, but in different ways – such a spell that robbed the bliss from the most illustrious sentiment in the universe, with one party emotionally invested and the other physically.

"Captain, there's someone here who would like to join our crew," came Wentworth's voice. "I told her that I'd ask you, since the Daggerdales will no longer be traveling with us and the vacancy needs to be filled."

"Who said the vacancy needs to be filled?" Jack asked lightly. "Surely not I."

Peter hesitated. "Well, I just presumed…" He was blushing. Jack quickly changed his tactics.

"It's all right, lad. I'll see 'er," he said.

The younger man slunk away awkwardly, only to return with a feminine form concealed behind his back. Jack used one of his hands to haphazardly wave him aside.

A girl – probably several years younger than myself – appeared. Her shiny, ink-colored hair was chopped short, about to her shoulders. She had a shy-looking face, with rosy lips and a pale complexion. Her eyes were the color of emeralds. I quickly scanned her apparel, which was more ornate than mine; she wore a similarly billowy shirt, but a black under-bust corset highlighted her hourglass figure. Her breeches were the same color as mine, and she wore a pair of black knee-high, leather boots.

The sight of her made me think that I really needed to add a bit more flair to my wardrobe; I was being put to shame by all these other female pirates…

"And who're you, love?" Jack interrogated tactlessly. One of his sullied hands was languidly draped over my bony shoulder as a sign of possession; Wentworth's eyes were glued to it, and I smirked evilly at his discomfort. I knew it was cruel and immoral of me, but I couldn't help but feel a faint tinge of satisfaction as he realized that my heart belonged to another. Served him right for being stupid enough to fall for me…

"Cailido Bonny," she stated confidently.

Jack let out a huff of consideration. "Any relation to _Anne_ Bonny?"

"My mum," she answered simply.

"And let me guess, your father is Calico Jack?"

"That would be correct."

"So you've decided to take up the family trade, have you? Any good with a sword?"

"Very good."

"Well, I'm glad to hear it. Welcome to me humble crew. Now scurry along, the grown-ups are talking." I winced mentally – why was it that Jack so enjoyed provoking people?

"_Excuse me_?" she snarled indignantly.

"Aha, you take after your mum, I see," he continued nonchalantly.

"I am every bit as capable – if not _more_ capable – than every other member of this crew," she insisted passionately.

Oh boy, this didn't seem like it was going to end well.

"I'm sure that's true," I interjected sweetly. "What Jack means to say is that he, Mr. Gibbs, and I were discussing a private matter… Peter, why don't you introduce her to the rest of the crew – I'm sure they'd absolutely _love_ to get to know her," I said, dragging my gaze up her pretty figure. Yes, they would indeed be pleased with this new addition.

"Of course," he replied hastily. He led the enraged girl towards the other table; she glared daggers at Jack as she grew further and further away.

I turned to Jack, who wore a mask of disapproval. "At least he knows how to avoid an unnecessary conflict," I said in Peter's defense. It was clear that the young man irked him, perhaps even more so now that he had feelings for me. The Pirate Lord rolled his eyes in response to my assertion.

A heavy and unnatural silence descended upon the table as the rest of the pub continued its loud cacophony.

"Perhaps it would be best if we headed back to the ship," I suggested eventually.

Jack shot me a skittish look and locked eyes with Gibbs. "I don't know if I like the sound of that…"

Gibbs raised his scruffy eyebrows and replied, "I'm gonna stay 'ere for another drink, lass. It's far too early to be callin' it a night just yet."

"Aye, agreed," his friend concurred a little too quickly.

"I want to go, Jack," I pleaded melodiously. I stood and attempted to pull him to his feet by his arm.

He seemed not to be able to resist, and bit the inside of his cheek in dismay. "I suppose I can walk you back," he allowed tentatively.

I smiled winningly and interlaced my sinewy figures with his stained ones. We strode gracefully from _The Cutlass_, attracting more than a few fascinated stares. I had to admit, we made a handsome pair; it was probably the spell talking, but we were both incredibly alluring in our own way – together, we were at least pleasant to look at. And we made a fearsome team in a more morbid sense, I added mentally as I recalled the incident with the Dutch sailors.

As we walked through the streets, I turned to a stiff-looking Jack. He was tolerating my affections, but didn't dare reciprocate them. It must have been taking him an extraordinary amount of self-control to resist my advances, I mused.

"Jack," I breathed into the shell of his ear, "nothing bad is going to happen if you give in."

"That's very naïve of you to say, love," he stated cynically. "Clearly you've never dealt with _sentiment_ before."

"And you have?"

"Aye, and I was a fool to do so. I've learned my lesson, so, take it from me, it's not worth the bother." It didn't escape my notice that he was being much more candid than usual (Jack would never have admitted to being emotionally scorned in _any_ capacity – let alone romantic – without the influence of the spell), but the fact remained that he was still managing to appear neutral.

Soon, we had arrived at the ramp to the _Jewel. _Shipwreck Cove was beautiful at night. The skeletal port was alight with individual flames, creating a secondary constellation against the night sky.

"But how can something so pure be wrong," I wondered mystically, ghosting my fingertips over his pursed lips. Everything was flawless. Everything was blissful. My heart was exploding with affection, the scenery was magnificent, and I was with the one I cared about most. I couldn't fathom the notion that life could possibly get any more perfect.

He gently gripped my wrist and lowered my hand. "I assure you, this is not purity," he said gravely, "This is witchcraft – smoke and mirrors. It's a sham; what you are feeling now means nothing."

"What are you so afraid of?" I continued, unfazed.

Before he could reply, I leant in and pressed my lips to his without hesitation. His protests were drowned in an instant; it was mere milliseconds before his tongue expertly swept across my lower lip, requesting entrance. Unfalteringly, I opened my mouth and tilted my head to give him better access.

I brought my hands up to cradle his face and he deftly knotted his fingers into my fire-red curls. I trailed my fingertips from his jaw down to his chest. Apparently this motion was a little too intimate for his liking, and he drew away abruptly.

"I know it's going to be hard, love," he teased cheekily after a breath, "but you're going to have to keep your hands to yourself."

"And why is that?" I drawled, tracing the bone of his sternum through the opening in his shirt.

"_Because_," he said, shirking away from my touch, "this is going to end soon. We're nearly at our destination, and, after this _quest_ or whatever you should like to call it is completed, I will promptly be releasing us from this predicament."

"All the more reason to enjoy it while it lasts," I purred seductively.

"No, all the more reason to ignore these… _stirrings_ and crack on as if nothing has changed," he corrected through gritted teeth.

Again, I gave him a sultry smirk. "But how can I do that," I wondered aloud with pseudo-innocence, "when _everything_ has changed?"

He tore his gaze from mine. "Again, this isn't _real_," he pressed, growing impatient.

"But it _feels _real," I countered, grasping his hands earnestly.

"I think it's time you get to sleep," he stated, ignoring me. "Tomorrow will surely be both tiring and perilous…"

His abrupt switch in topics frustrated me, and I couldn't help but marvel at how adroit he was at suppressing his feelings. He _had_ said that he'd dealt with such "sentiment" before, but his words hadn't truly registered until now. I already knew that he was incredibly strong-willed, but still...

"How do you do it," I murmured, eyes fixed on his lips.

"Do what?"

"Ignore it."

"Years of practice," he answered. "You don't go through almost three decades as a pirate without quickly discoverin' that love is a most dangerous handicap. This whole world is fresh to you... I expect you'd never naturally experience such a sentiment."

His black eyes were studying me intently in fascination. "You're a curious thing," he said, his voice low. He gingerly used one of his hands to play with a tendril of hair near my face. "It must be amazing to see all this for the first time, to discover everything at once," he continued. "I almost envy you. I 'ardly remember what it was like the first time I discovered the magic of the sea. Everything's a sort of a blur, after all these years," he said wistfully, "There's barely anything left out there for me anymore – the mystery is almost gone from this world. But for you – the universe is at your fingertips. You 'ave so much yet to learn, so much yet to see. Everything is new."

"You're forgetting," I said softly, "that I'm hardly discovering the 'magic of the sea,' as you put it, for the first time."

"On the contrary, love, you are," he insisted. "It's important to distinguish between observing it and being _part_ of it. It's great fun on the outside of things, though I can't say I've seen it from any other angle."

I made a noise of disagreement. "You're as much a part of it as any human has ever been, Jack."

He grinned, his teeth gleaming in the moonlight. "Be that as it may, our positions are different. Or _were _different, in any case, as I'm now considering you an honorary member of the human race."

I mirrored his grin. That was what I'd wanted most, to be put on equal footing. He must have known this, too, because he looked sincere. "Thank you," I breathed.

"No need to thank me, you've gotten here all on your own."

My smile widened even further as I looked at him in adoration. Everything he had just said – it was so lovely; it was exactly what I'd wanted to hear. He truly understood me in a way that I hadn't thought possible. The fact that he had such an insight into my personality told me that he'd been paying attention even before the spell had been cast. He saw me for what I was, not the monster I was supposed to be.

I new wave of affection gripped my heart. There was more to it than just this curse. There was more there, there had to be. What I was feeling was rooted in reality, I knew it… It was too complex for a simple binding entrancement. Love, respect, protectiveness, and admiration were just a few of the emotions I felt for him.

I started up the wooden ramp and tried to pull him along with me. He didn't budge.

"This is where I leave you, my dear Cassie," he said with a halfhearted smirk.

Disappointment shone brightly in my eyes, but I didn't want to push him anymore. "Alright," I agreed begrudgingly.

He pressed a chaste kiss to my forehead, before disentangling himself from my grip and waving to me as I walked to the ship.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: So, there you go! I hope you all liked it! Also, I simply have to mention that Cailido Bonny is the creation of my fellow author Evangeline Crystal/ Evangeline Gratuit on FictionPress. Sorry it took so long to add her in here!**

**Pretty please review! And please forgive any OOCness, I'm conveniently going to blame all of the mushiness on the spell. Lol. Love you guys :)**


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N: Hey guys! I know it's been a long time, so you'll once again have to forgive me. But lucky you, I'm done with school and will now have MUCH more time to write, so you can expect more frequent updates! :) As always, I'd like to thank my wonderful reviewers. I know I've said this a million times, but I really appreciate your feedback. This chapter is SUPER long (practically two whole chapters, just 'cause I love you guys so much), so I hope you all enjoy it!**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter XXV<strong>

The next morning, I awoke with a start. My eyes were fogged with sleep, but I was able to uncertainly arrive at the conclusion that I was below deck, with the rest of the crew. Everyone else was sleeping, so I surmised that it must have been quite early. I delicately swung my legs over the side of my hammock and stood. The events of the previous night came flooding back to the forefront of my mind. I hadn't forgotten what had happened, of course, for the bizarre ache in my heart at the mere thought of a certain Captain Jack Sparrow was not something that could easily slip my memory. No, the foreign warmth of affection had never left. But the specifics of everything – Barbossa, that strange new girl (something Bonny, was it?) – it all began to reply itself in my head.

We were leaving today. Finally setting off. All this, everything I'd been through in the past month or so – it was all going to come to a crescendo. The lost city of Atlantis, the retrieval of the _Pearl_. Jack would be so pleased.

I tiptoed towards the ladder and began to climb upwards to the brightly lit deck. Jack and Gibbs were awake and hunched over some long, age-yellowed map.

"Good morning," I chirped with uncharacteristic enthusiasm.

Gibbs gave me a tentative glance, before allowing his gaze to snap to Jack. He was clearly very interested in watching the two of us interact.

" 'ello," was Jack's sole response. He hardly even looked at me, and I couldn't help but feel mildly offended. _So he's still just going to ignore this_, I thought in disapproval.

"When are we going to be leaving?" I questioned innocently, batting my eyelashes.

"Soon," he answered gruffly.

"Aye, very soon, lass," Gibbs piped in, "We're just waitin' fer the others – they'll be arrivin' in 'alf and 'our or so, I'd reckon."

"Hm. Who will be joining us, then? Everyone?"

"Everyone 'cept Chevalle and Villanueva. So really only Barbossa, Teague, and Jocard," he replied as he scratched at his muttonchops in a very unrefined manner.

"That's not a great turnout," I said pensively, "Although, I suppose it depends on one's perspective…"

"Indeed," Jack stated dryly, speaking for the first time in a while. It wasn't often that he kept his mouth shut, and it went without saying (no pun intended) that he was trying to minimize his communication with me.

"So," Gibbs began in unabashed amusement, "this _thing_ b'tween the two o' ya – 'ow's that been workin' out?"

"It hasn't been," the pirate captain answered in the same monotone he'd been using for the past five minutes.

I rolled my eyes. "Jack's being difficult," I replied in a playful sort of agitation.

"I prefer _pragmatic_," the man in question retorted with an underlying (albeit wholly unwanted, I suspect) hint of affection in his tone.

I gave him a cheeky smirk, but soon turned my attention back to Gibbs and the map. Before I had the chance to properly examine it, however, the howl of a horn tore through the air. I snapped my head to search for the source of the noise, to see an enormous ship razing through the waves. It was the _Revenge_. The sound caused the rest of the crew to filter on deck; judging by the Spritlies unusual state of undress (they were missing various unessential articles of clothing) and the dark circles under their eyes, I was able to deduce that they'd had a rude awakening. Ah well, could much else be expected after a night of heavy drinking in Shipwreck Cove?

"Well, well, well, look who finally decided to join us," Jack taunted through cupped hands once Barbossa had docked alongside us.

Soon, Jocard's ship, the _Ranger, _arrived as well. It was larger than Jack's but smaller than Barbossa's and had some sort of tribal design on the sails.

"Now we're just waitin' on yer father," Gibbs grunted.

"He never was one to adhere to specifics – dates, times, _birthdays_, they don't seem to hold any relevance to him…" Jack answered somewhat peevishly.

However, it was only a matter of minutes before _The Troubadour_ glided into view, with Captain Edward Teague at its helm.

"Now that we're all assembled," Barbossa shouted heartily, "I believe it be time for you to lead the way, Jack!"

Captain Sparrow allowed but a smirk. "Lift the anchor," he commanded, excitement lacing his words, "We're headed back through the Devil's Throat."

The four ships came together in a single file line, with the _Jewel _at the head. When we entered the cavern, its dark, candle-lit beauty consumed us. By the time we were all inside, the sun had been more or less completely blocked out. It seemed the perfect moment to confront Jack about where we were headed.

"Our destination," I asked Jack under my breath, "is the center of the Triangle?"

"Aye."

"And this map will lead us to where we want to go?" I continued to interrogate, gesturing to the parchment in his hand.

"Aye."

"But earlier weren't you saying something about a compass?"

He raised his eyebrows. "You're a sneaky thing, aren't ye? My compass has been compromised."

"Compromised?"

"Aye."

"Care to elaborate?" I was growing tired of his one-word answers.

"I don't care to, but I have a sinking feeling that you're going to pester me until I do, so let me save you the trouble. Aye, my compass is… bewitched." He still would not turn his focus away from navigating the _Jewel, _despite the fact that I was practically breathing down his neck.

"In what way?"

"It points to what one desires most in the world."

"So how exactly has it been compromised?"

He finally gave me a pointed look. "_You_," he said accusatorily. "You and your little spell-y thing. The _Pearl_, apparently, is no longer what I desire most." He seemed very distressed about this, if not outright angry. "Although," he added as an afterthought, "it might have been a bit presumptuous of me to assume in the first place that my compass would actually _work_ in the Triangle. That particular patch of godforsaken sea is known for making navigational devices go a bit _unreliable_, if you will."

"Your compass points to _me_?" I asked in disbelief.

He whipped it out, as if to verify this fact. After a moment of staring at the face of the compass, he said, "Indeed."

I slid behind him and trailed my fingertips up the arm that he held by his side, savoring his discomforted reaction. Standing on my toes, I whispered in his ear, "But you already have me."

He spun around in the blink of an eye, and suddenly our chests were flush against each other.

"It would appear, then, that I am loath to claim my prize…" Our lips were dangerously close, but he turned back to the wheel before I had the chance to take action.

I let out a long, aggrieved sigh. "It'll all be over soon," I heard him mumbled to reassure himself.

When we reached the end of the pass, it was dusk. We let down anchor off the coast of some uninhabited isle.

"We shall be reaching our destination by midday tomorrow," Jack announced to the eager crew, "So it is imperative that the lot of you get some rest. What we're going to face in the morning will undoubtedly be… trying."

With that, he descended the upper deck and strode to Gibbs. "I'll be needing to convene with the rest o' the scallywags on Barbossa's ship, so you're in charge while I'm gone, savvy?" He shot a suspicious look at Cailido. "I don't like the looks o' that one," he hissed conspiratorially, "And if she takes after either of her parents – which will indisputably be the case – then she's going to be trouble. Keep a watchful eye, Master Gibbs, a watchful eye…"

Gibbs nodded his assent and Jack then proceeded to lower one of the longboats into the black sea. Once Gibbs climbed to the upper deck, I quietly made my way over to Jack. "Can I join you?" I asked.

He stopped working the ropes and gave me a quick once over, scrutinizing me from head to toe. Finally, he stated, "Not necessary."

I looked at him with protest written clearly across my features. "Do you remember earlier, when I first joined your crew? You said that you thought I might come in handy later, and that's why you let me stay. I think you're about to be proven correct."

Again, he searched my face for signs of ulterior motives. After several seconds, he finally allowed begrudgingly, "Fine. But you're not to speak to anyone unless spoken to, understand? The less they know about you, the better…" He then resumed lowering the boat into the water.

The _Revenge_ looked just as I remembered it from the night that I sneaked aboard: dark, skeletal, and ominous. It could have passed for the messenger of death itself – it was hard to believe that this wasn't the _Dutchman_. The weathered, bare-skulled figurehead seemed to be grinning at us as we passed by, as if it knew our fate. We had only the stars and the fire from the ship guiding our way, and in the dim light the sails and the side of the hull were the color of blood. I swallowed the lump that had been building in my throat. No, no harm would come to me here. I was with Jack – he would protect me, if the need arose. I could protect myself.

"Why is it we're meeting on Barbossa's ship?" I quietly inquired. Even though he was expecting our arrival, I felt as if we were trying to remain unnoticed.

"It's the largest," he stated distastefully. "And it's most difficult for him to get around, given his one-legged predicament…"

I nodded. This seemed logical enough. Once we were within reach of the ship, Jack banged the heel of his palm on the side and yelled, "Oi, throw us a line!"

On request, a rope was sent over the side of the ship. Jack knotted it to the front of our longboat, before giving me a boost up. "Me first?" I hissed in semi-panic.

He flashed me a grin. "I like to make an unexpected entrance."

As I put my hands on the railing on the ship and began to lift myself up, I felt someone grab one of them and hoist me aboard. "'Ello, milady," came Teague's gruff voice. His black eyes twinkled with an amusement that I found mildly unnerving.

"What in the devil?" Barbossa growled angrily, "Where's Sparrow?" He hobbled towards me, but by the time he reached the side of the ship Jack was already barreling over the railing. The older man stumbled back to avoid being kicking in the face.

"'Ello, mate," Jack greeted mischievously.

Barbossa's patience was wearing thin. "Why is _she_ 'ere?" he asked as if he were speaking to a child.

"Why not?" Jack dismissed.

The other man rolled his eyes and strode towards the captain's quarters without another word. Jack, Teague, Jocard, and I followed.

"Am I the only one who brought company?" Jack muttered lightly to his father.

"Aye, it would appear that way, Jackie. But then again, you're the only one with a sweetheart on board, aren't ye?" he teased.

Jack scoffed loudly. "That's hardly the correct term," was his blunt reply.

Inside Barbossa's chambers, there were several seats set up around a circular table, with a pair dying candles and a pitcher of wine in the center. Further into the room, there was a large wooden desk with various candles and papers strewn about. There was a stained-glass representation of what appeared to be hell on the far wall.

Barbossa caught me inspecting the room and said, "If I'd known there was goin' to be a lady comin', I would've cleaned the place up. But you've already been 'ere once before, 'aven't ya?"

It was then that I noticed Jocard staring me – and I mean _thoroughly_ staring me. Jack noticed, too, and sent him a glare, but declined comment.

Jocard addressed me for the first time: "What's so special about you, girl?" His tone was flat as ever, but there was a depth of curiosity in his eyes.

I opened my mouth, but before I could give any sort of reply, Teague said, "She is uncommonly beautiful, would you not agree?"

Jocard looked far from convinced, but Barbossa abruptly ordered, "Sit," and everyone was forced to obey. I made sure to take the seat next to Jack and directly across from Teague. Barbossa was between Jocard and Jack, at the head of the table.

"Now," he began authoritatively, "What is it that can be expected from the voyage to Atlantis?"

His question was directed at Jack, but it was Jocard who answered, "There is a creature," he began without any trace of emotion, "that we must first overcome."

"What sort of creature?" Jack questioned unenthusiastically.

"They call it the Leviathan," he replied.

"Aye, I've 'eard of it," Teague added. "It's a sort of sea serpent."

"Yes," Jocard confirmed.

"And what do ye mean by 'overcome'?" Barbossa demanded.

"The goal is not to slay the beast," he began, "but to subdue it."

"And how did ye manage that last time?" Jack asked.

Jocard smirked and stared directly at me. "Unfortunately, I then had a luxury that none of us have now."

"Namely?" Barbossa interrogated, his eyes half-lidded in irritation.

"There may be other ways, but I do not know of them. I had a mermaid," Jocard continued with a sort of furtive delight.

Jack reacted so quickly that I hardly had time to process Jocard's words. "Say," he started feverishly, "Hypothetically speaking, of course, that one of us could procure said specimen. Then what?" At that moment, it was clear that everyone knew what I was. However, no one chose to acknowledge it aloud, and for that I was thankful.

"Well, from there it is still not so simple as one might think. I lost half my men before she was able to calm the beast. Her song will subdue it, but the creature attacks with its tail; the siren's song must be sung underwater."

"That's not so bad," Jack said hesitantly. I sent him a sidelong glance, my eyes wide. _Not so bad?_ I thought hysterically. For this plan to work, I would have to reveal myself to four separate crews of possibly hostile men.

"Unless the mermaid is eaten in the process, you mean," Jocard continued, "Mermaids may be fearsome creatures, but they are nothing but girls compared to the Leviathan. If the mermaid is killed, all hope is lost. And then there's the possibility that she will simply swim away to save herself…"

Well, at least the last part wasn't an issue. But eaten? No thank you…

"Once one has subdued the Leviathan, then what?" I asked. I had completely forgotten that Jack had bid me not to speak, but it was too late. Everyone turned their attention towards me.

Somewhat taken aback, Jocard answered, "The route to Atlantis is not a pleasant one. The Leviathan is the only way, which is why it must not be killed."

I furrowed my brow in confusion. "How?" I asked.

"Its mouth," he stated.

"I'm sorry, did you say its _mouth_?" Jack demanded in repulsion and disbelief. From the looks on Teague and Barbossa's faces, they most certainly shared his sentiments.

"Yes. Surely you're all familiar with the tale of Jonah and the whale?" Jocard replied in amusement.

"Aye, but I'm not particularly keen on livin' it!" Barbossa snarled.

"No one is forcing you to go," Jocard reasoned, "You were the one who was most adamant about getting your ships."

"So that's what we'll do then, aye?" Teague finally cut in. "Ye ladies are actin' like a bunch of lily-livered pansies. I know fer a fact that Jack's been through worse, and Barbossa you're not exactly a delicate flower, are ye now? It's a sorry bunch of pirates, those who're afraid to get their boots wet."

Jack's and Barbossa's pride seemed to be sufficiently insulted by Teague's reprimanding, so both staying indignantly silent.

After several moments, I spoke. "So that's it, then. That's what we'll do."

Jocard smirked insolently at Jack and Barbossa. "The _girl_ has more resolve than you do, it appears."

"Of course we'll do it," Jack snapped finally. "The _Pearl _will be mine again, and that's that. Doesn't mean I'm going to enjoy the process, though."

"Aye, that's what we'll do," Barbossa agreed, giving me a look that I did not entirely comprehend; it was halfway between fascination and mistrust.

"Good," Jocard said tersely, "But that is only the first step. The Atlantians are a civilized people in only the loosest sense… It will be difficult to gain their trust."

"Why do we need their _trust_?" Barbossa demanded. "I say we kill 'em all!" He banged his fist against the table for further emphasis.

Jocard gave him a condescending smile and continuing, "My friend, we will be grossly outnumbered. Diplomacy will be our only salvation. But leave that to me, I have dealt with them before," he said ambiguously. There was something in his tone that I didn't trust, but I chose to ignore it.

"What happened to the mermaid that you used before?" I questioned suddenly.

He raised his eyebrows at my audacity to address him in such a direct manner, but simply replied, "She lived."

That was all I really needed to know.

"Well then," Jack said, standing abruptly, "Now that we have our strategy sufficiently mapped out, I think it's time that we part ways. Until tomorrow, gentlemen." He removed his hat and fell into a sweeping bow, before striding out the door; he wanted to leave before they asked him about the ritual of restoring the ships. I followed him loyally, but only before hearing Barbossa mutter, "_Showy bastard_," under his breath. I smirked, because it was true.

Once back on the _Jewel_, I followed Jack to his cabin.

"They all know what I am, now," I hissed unhappily.

"Me dad and Jocard already knew it, I'd wager. Plus, if it makes ye feel better, nothing was verbally acknowledged and therefore any accusations can rightfully be disputed," he said, waving me off.

"Not after tomorrow, they won't be," I insisted.

He spun around on his heel and cornered me against the closed door. I started having flashbacks to one of our earlier encounters. "Indeed, that is regrettable, but unavoidable. It seems you were right about your presence being useful, after all…"

"Not useful in a way that I hoped it would be," I lamented.

"You're scared." It was a statement, not a question.

"And rightfully so!"

"Perhaps. But are you afraid of the monster or the men?"

"Men can be monsters too," I deadpanned.

He smirked. "Well-phrased, love. But you need not fear _my _crew."

"I fear Barbossa above all," I said.

He cocked his head to the side and viewed me with genuine curiosity. "Why?"

"He is naturally cruel."

"That may be, but he is not stupid and he is not – I can't believe I'm going to say this – he's not _evil_."

While I remained silent, I was not fully convinced. Perhaps Jack was right – Barbossa did let me go in Tortuga, after all. Things could have turned out much worse.

Jack ceased trying to read my thoughts and began to walk away from me.

"There is something you should know about the spell, Jack," I said without moving from my position against the door.

"Oh?" was his nonchalant reply. He took a seat at his desk and began scribbling something. "Do tell," he said disinterestedly.

"If I die," I began tentatively, "If I die, the spell is not broken. You will still be in love with me. But if you die, I will be released."

Several beats of silence passed. "And you're telling me this because…?"

"Because I may die tomorrow. And if so… Well, it will be hard for you, I imagine. For the rest of your life, you will still be bound to me…"

"I'll keep that in mind," he replied dryly without looking up.

I finally gathered the courage to approach him and sauntered over to his desk. I slid behind his chair and wrapped my arms around his shoulders; his body went rigid and his quill froze mid-word.

He cleared his throat. "You should probably get to bed," he stated uncomfortably.

"Why don't you join me," I purred.

I heard him emit some sort of strangled groan from the back of his throat. "That's a horrible idea."

"Is it?" I continued, my lips millimeters from his ear, "This may be our last night together."

"It will certainly be our last night under this damned spell," he muttered.

"Perhaps not, if I die…"

He pushed his chair back, so I was forced to release him; he stood to face me and I saw that his brow was knitted in vexation. "You shouldn't talk like that," he scolded, his tone distant.

"You only say that because you know it's true," I countered sadly.

He met my gaze, as if pleading with me to leave him alone. He looked like a caged animal. "Cassiopeia…"

I took a bold step forward; the tension between us was practically palpable. Here we were, in the late hours of the night, alone, in his bedchambers, on the eve of a journey that we might not survive. "Yes?" I whispered innocently.

"Please…"

Before any further interaction could occur, he took both of his hands and pulled my face to his, pressing his lips to mine. I had to admit, I was surprised by his forwardness. He absolutely poured himself into the kiss, much more so than he'd done before. His will had finally broken. _It's about damn time_, I thought wryly. I made quick work of his jacket and dragged him towards his unmade bed by the lapels of his waistcoat. After fumbling with the buttons, I got him down to his shirt and then moved on to his multiple belts and sash. Meanwhile, he was peppering kisses along my neck and jaw line, clearly entrenched in his own lust. Jack was indisputably intelligent, but he was also impulsive. I knew I had to work fast and take advantage of this momentary lapse in judgment, otherwise he might realize what he was doing.

It was almost as if he sensed my misgivings. Suddenly, he grabbed my shoulders and held me firmly at arm's-length. "We can't…" he warned. His voice was far-away and his eyes were clouded; this protest was naught but a weak, final attempt at sanity.

Resisting the urge to roll my eyes, I switched positions with him and very nearly shoved him down onto the bed. I pinned him down and straddled his waist on sheer instinct, only vaguely shocked by my own aggressiveness. My true, predatory nature was coming forth, I supposed.

"Shut up," I mumbled indistinctly. Without further ado, I resumed ridding him of his numerous layers of clothing. It didn't take long for his resolution to crumble.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Please review, guys! This is my most-subscribed story, but it has proportionally the fewest reviews! I'd really love to hear your opinions :)**


	26. Chapter 26

**A/N: Thank you so so so so much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! I'm so happy to see that you guys are enjoying the story. I hope you all like this chapter!**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter XXVI<strong>

I awoke the next morning naked, tangled in the crinkled sheets of Jack's empty bed. I wasn't surprised that he was gone – despite the events of the previous night, I'd arrived at the firm conclusion that Jack was the sort of person to flee from his feelings. Why, I do not know. Perhaps he found it easier to ignore "sentiment," as he put it, than make himself vulnerable to it. It didn't make sense, of course, for it mattered not whether or not he gave into his affections for me. If I were injured in some manner (or worse, killed), he would be hurt regardless. But it seemed that logical thought was not something that could be applied to love.

After getting dressed, I headed out on deck to see that we were already sailing; Jack was at the helm, looking self-assured as ever. His tanned skin glistened in the bright sun and his dark eyes were squinted. He really was very strange looking, but he was undeniably handsome all the same – and he knew it. He had his usual air of pride about him; no one would suspect that anything had changed between us.

At least that was what I thought before Cailido spoke to me.

"What were you doing in the captain's quarters at a time like this?" she demanded with narrowed eyes and a quirked eyebrow.

"I – uh – he asked me to get something for him," I stammered. My lie was obvious.

"_Really_? Because this is the first time you've been on deck all morning," she pressed skeptically.

"What do you mean to suggest?" I demanded through gritted teeth.

She smirked with infuriating self-satisfaction. " Nothing at all," she replied with a knowing wink. As she sauntered away, I could feel my cheeks burn with embarrassment. This left me somewhat surprised – embarrassment was something I experienced rarely, and I couldn't understand why I was feeling it now. I had done nothing to be ashamed of (or had I? humans _were_ ever so touchy about such subjects, but pirates did seem a bit more lax…), but the fact that everyone now _knew_ was disconcerting. I supposed it wasn't very ladylike for me to be caught in such a predicament, though I couldn't say I regretted my actions in the least.

I climbed up to the helm. "Hello, Jack," I greeted saucily.

He merely spared me a sidelong glance and his response was brief. "'ello," he replied with a defensive sort of boredom lacing his tone.

I snapped my head towards the stern and saw the other ships following us at a safe distance. Gibbs was on the upper deck as well and I walked over to speak with him.

"We're almost there, are we?" I inquired.

"Aye. We should be reachin' our destination by midday," he answered gruffly. He studied me for a moment, before continuing, "Cap'n Jack, 'e – er – 'e informed me o' the situation."

"Oh?" This was no great shock; Jack confided in Gibbs as much as he confided in anyone (which, granted, wasn't saying much).

"Aye." He eyed me intensely and I started to shrink under his inspection. "'e didn' seem too 'appy 'bout it," he blathered on. "N' fact, I dunno if I've ever seen the Cap'n like that b'fore. 'e wasn't really _worried_, per say, but 'e wasn't 'appy. I jus' think ye oughtta know, it's a good thing what yer doin'. Dangerous, but good. And the Cap'n does care 'bout ye, if that be any consolation."

I gave him a thin-lipped smile. "Thanks. I presume it's the work of the spell."

Gibbs' expression was almost entirely unreadable, but I detected the faintest trace of doubt deep in his eyes. I pushed the unfamiliar and unwelcome feeling of hope out of my chest and focused instead on the crippling sense of anxiety that was beginning to seep into the pit of my stomach. Judging by the sun's height, we had a matter of three or four hours before we were smack in the center of the Triangle. Which, theoretically, meant I had a matter of three or four hours left to live. That was certainly an unfortunate thought…

After around two and a half hours, Jack finally tore his solid gaze away from the horizon. His compass, which had been rooted in the palm of his hand for nearly the entire journey, suddenly attracted his attention. He stared at the needle as it began circling 'round and 'round arbitrarily.

"Well that's interesting," he murmured to himself. "Lads," he began loudly, "_and_ ladies" he amended in reference to Cailido and myself, "It appears that we've entered the Bermuda Triangle. Signal the others."

"How can you be sure?" Cailido questioned brashly. Her raven-colored hair shimmered prettily in the sun's rays and flowed behind her in the wind; I couldn't help but notice Wentworth staring at her in a manner that he had once reserved for me. It seemed he had a penchant for women who were far more spirited than he was.

"Have you got a compass?" Jack countered with a question of his own, un-fazed by her audacity.

"Aye."

"Well then, why don't you take a look a it," he suggested as if it was obvious (which, granted, it was).

Begrudgingly, she did as he instructed. "Why's it spinnin' around like that?" she asked.

"_Because_, as I've just said, we have reached the Triangle. That's what happens," he answered tiredly.

She glared at him in annoyance, but didn't reply. Clearly she was seeking a more scientific explanation, but Jack was far from the right person to give it to her.

"How much longer 'til we reach where we need to be?" Tim yelled from the lower deck.

"Hard to say, probably around an hour or so. Depends on the wind, which is a bit unpredictable in this area," he said. "Hopefully we won't be caught in any flash storms, but such a thing wouldn't be uncommon."

I gulped heavily; this didn't sound at all promising. When the rest of the crew was no longer giving the captain their undivided attention, I started to walk towards him.

"Jack, I – " I started softly.

"You don't need to say it," he ground out, his jaw clenched in emotional discomfort.

"I know, but –"

"Really, I'd rather we don't. I think we've had quite enough of," he paused, looking me up and down and making a strange gesture with his hand. "_That_," he finished.

I tried not to smile at his peculiar demeanor. "Yes, you made that quite clear this morning," I replied.

His face was betrayed no emotion, so I continued, "Did your compass point to the entrance to Atlantis? Before we entered the Triangle, that is…"

"Since you've asked, in fact it did," he confirmed.

"Then I suppose you've claimed your prize."

"I suppose. Don't you have something you should be doing? Other than pestering me, that is?"

I snorted at this comment; "I think I'll be contributing plenty later today, do you not agree?"

This seemed to stump him. "_Perhaps_," he began, "But you still ought to at least _appear_ to be engaged in some sort of useful endeavor. Otherwise the crew might grow suspicious, and we wouldn't want that…"

"Fair enough," I conceded. With that, I descended the staircase and began helping Tom swab the deck. It certainly wasn't the most enjoyable task, but it required a minimal amount of brainpower and was a welcome distraction.

It was only a matter of minutes before buckets of water started pouring from the heavens; it was raining so hard that one might have suspected the sky and sea had switched positions. Not a spot of blue was visible, and angry gray clouds wholly concealed the sun at an impossible rate. Lightening began to flash, followed by the clash of thunder overhead. The waves roiled violently, rocking the ship and spraying the deck with such velocity that several of my crewmates were thrown off their feet.

This was not good. The amount of water invading the ship was dangerous for numerous reasons, the primary of which was obvious: I might turn into my true form.

I whipped my head around to see that the Teague, Barbossa, and Jocard's ships were being similarly assailed by the forces of nature.

"Batten down the hatches, lads!" Jack cried over the roar of the tempest. "Let out the canvas! Let 'er lie ahull!" He released the wheel and it spun on its own volition.

"But Cap'n, we'll be completely at the mercy o' the devil 'imself!" Gibbs protested in horror.

"Aye, that's the plan!" he yelled back. "We'll be taken where we're meant to go, mark me words!"

The rest of the crew had no choice but to trust him, and they began securing the barrels on board. I could not help them – I needed to find shelter before I sprouted a tail.

I grabbed Emery, the dog, before rushing into Jack's quarters and slamming the door behind me; everything in his room, excluding the furniture, which was nailed down, slid across the floor as the ship rocked. I, too, was caught off balance. But at least I was dry. Emery looked at me with innocent black eyes and cocked his head to the side. I wondered if his mind was still human – it didn't seem like it. Although, he did seem grateful that I'd saved him from being swept overboard, which would have led to his certain demise.

I felt awful, leaving them all like that, but I would be of no use to them. My penance would come later, I assured myself as I listened to the harsh pounding of raindrops. Later…

The storm lasted no longer than twenty minutes.

There was an eerie cease in activity, and I ventured back on deck.

It was Cailido who confronted me first (again). "Coward," she accused.

I winced. It did indeed seem that way, didn't it? "It's not what it looks like," I tried earnestly.

Understandably, she was far from convinced. I looked to the rest of the crew, and saw that they too were eyeing me in disappointment – Tim and Tom looked positively crestfallen, and I felt my chest restrict. _If only they knew…_ But they would know, soon enough.

Jack called their attention away from me. "Now is hardly the time," he boomed commandingly. "All hands, ready your weapons. Marty, Cotton, load the guns."

"Ready them for what?" Wentworth demanded, his features panic-stricken. It dawned on me then that no one else knew what we were going to be up against. They all still thought that we were searching for treasure, didn't they? At least Cailido, the Spritelies, and Wentworth did. Oh dear, they were certainly in for a rude awakening.

Jack didn't even need to reply. Instead, the ship began to quake ominously and the floorboards groaned. Several crewmembers yelled in surprise, and I knew that my time had come. I crept towards the stern and began to undress as quickly and surreptitiously as I could. Before I leapt into the water, however, an enormous, scaly _tail_ surfaced from the deep. It was nearly as thick as the width of the ship, and decidedly longer.

It was undoubtedly the Leviathan.

A sort of metallic armored plating, which appeared to be man-made, protected its grayish flesh. This did not bode well for Marty and Cotton, who had already begun firing the cannons.

And then I dove. Only I could save the ship, as it appeared that Barbossa, Teague, and Jocard had no intention of coming to our aid. _Bloody pirates_, I thought to myself.

After the cool water accepted me into its sanctuary, I witnessed the extent of the problem. My crewmates were only seeing a third of the beast; the rest of it was submerged beneath them. I turned my gaze to the seafloor – what I saw was intensely disturbing.

There were ruined ships _everywhere_. The expanse of destruction was large enough to be the city of Atlantis itself. It extended as far as I could see, even beneath the _Revenge, Troubadour, _and _Ranger_. It was a veritable graveyard.

And then came the monster. I do not know what I had expected, to be entirely honest. But what I saw was worse than anything I could have conjured even in my wildest nightmares.

It was not exactly a sea serpent, as I had anticipated, because it possessed two sharp pectoral fins. Along its back lay a continuous row of spines that were akin to dorsal fins, but were made of a bone-like material. Its large head was the most ghastly part of all; its eyes were yellow and miniscule, almost fully masked by the unusual armor it was outfitted with. Its pebbled skin was visible from between the plates, but only just. From what I could tell, the beast itself was a sickly purple-gray color. It had a snout almost like that of a shark, but not quite so pointed. And its _teeth_ – its teeth were the coup-de-grâce. They were like a crocodile's, but ten times the size in every dimension.

Needless to say, I was terrified – almost to the point of being immobilized.

Luckily, however, it had yet to notice my presence.

Unluckily, it seemed intent on demolishing the _Jewel._

And it was succeeding – splintered wood was beginning to snow down upon the surface of the sea, while heavier items, such as barrels and cannons, sunk slowly around me. The Leviathan was obscured by a murky cloud of bubbles due to all its thrashing. We were the only living creatures in the water – everything else was dead.

It was then that I started to sing. My voice sounded uncharacteristically sepulchral as it echoed through the abandoned battlefield.

"_T'was Friday morn when we set sail,_

_And we were not far from the land_

_When our Captain he spied a mermaid so fair_

_With a comb and a glass in her hand._

_And the ocean waves do roll_

_And the stormy winds do blow_

_And we poor sailors go skipping at the top_

_While the landlubbers lie down below"_

It wasn't working – it couldn't hear me. I needed to get closer.

I darted towards the monster, hesitantly at first. But my resolve was bolstered the moment I saw a pair of feet hover far above my head. I couldn't quite make out what was going on, but things were looking bleak from my perspective.

"_Then up spoke the captain of our gallant ship_," I continued, my voice quivering with fear, "_And a fine old man was he_

_This sweet mermaid has warned us of our doom;_

_We shall sink to the bottom of the sea."_

I had certainly chosen an appropriate melody. Still, the Mermaid's Song wasn't having any effect. So, closer I swam. I swam until I was practically perched on its fearsome skull.

"_Then spoke the cabin-boy of our gallant ship,_

_And a brave young lad was he_

_Said 'I have a sweetheart in Salem by the sea,_

_And tonight she'll be weeping there for me"_

Finally, it heard me.

But, instead of being mollified, it was enraged. Its massive jaws turned to face _me_ and the ship was ignored. But it was too late. The _Jewel _was obliterated.

I didn't have the opportunity to mourn my beloved home of two months, however, for I had now become the Leviathan's primary interest.

Swimming at a speed I hadn't imagined possible, I slimly avoided its gnashing teeth. _Why isn't my song working_, was all my mind could process.

But I pressed on, even as I fled.

"_Then up spoke the cook of our gallant ship,_

_And a crazy old butcher was he_

_Said 'I care much more for my pots and my pans_

_Than I do for the bottom of the sea"_

And then something miraculous happened.

The creature faltered in its pursuit.

It looked at me, and its canary orbs held a flicker of wonderment. I tilted my head towards the sky, still clutching some shred of hope that everyone was all right.

I wasn't disappointed – the _Troubadour, Ranger_, and _Revenge_ had sailed closer, and, from what I could see, saved my shipwrecked crewmates. A ways apart from the three ships was a longboat in the place where the _Jewel _had sat. Debris from the dismembered ship floated towards the ghostly seafloor like ashes. The _Poseidon's Jewel_ was now nothing more than a relic, adding mass to the city of ruins beneath the waves.

From the longboat, I saw an arm stretched into the water. It was holding Jack's compass, which caught the sunlight. Immediately, I understood.

"_Then three times 'round spun our gallant ship_," I sang sorrowfully, the lyrics striking a deep chord,

"_And three times 'round spun she;_

_Three times 'round spun our gallant ship,_

_And she sank to the bottom of the sea." _[1]_  
><em>

By this time, I had led the Leviathan to the surface of the water, where the longboat floated unassumingly.

I had done it, I had tamed the monster.

And now Barbossa, Jocard, and Jack were waiting, waiting to be thrust into the very bowels of the beast.

I swam above the Leviathan's head, and used its helmet-like contraption to guide it out of the water.

It was almost as if I had unlocked something within it – as if it had been programmed to respond to my touch. It soon became docile and slowly opened its mouth, revealing a bulky, slimy, red tongue. It looked far from sanitary. Jocard expertly stepped off of the safety of the boat and into the jaws of death itself. Barbossa was next, and lastly Jack.

The Leviathan closed its mouth and sunk below the waterline. Then, as I still held on to its head, it descended rapidly into the dark maze of shipwrecks at the bottom of the ocean.

* * *

><p><strong>[1]: The name of this song is called "The Mermaid" - I don't really know what exact year it's from, but it was apparently popular throughout the 1700's. Haha I thought it was appropriate, given the circumstances.<strong>

**Also, I didn't really base the Leviathan on anything in particular, but, if anyone has seen the new Avengers movie, I was inspired by that alien thing that attacks the city - I think it was called the Leviathan too... It's not supposed to look like that exactly, but if you'd like a visual just google that and it should help lol.  
><strong>

**Anyway, I hope you all liked this! I kind of have trouble writing action scenes like this, so it'd be great to hear your thoughts! There was a lot of Cassie in this chapter, but don't worry, we'll hear from everyone else soon enough. Also, I just wanted to remind you all of the other crewmembers (Wentworth, the Spritelies, etc.), seeing as they haven't gotten a lot of mention recently. :) Thanks so much for reading!  
><strong>


	27. Chapter 27

**A/N: Thanks so much to my lovely reviewers! You guys are what keeps me writing! I hope you all like this next chapter :)**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter XXVII<strong>

For such a colossal creature, the Leviathan was surprisingly agile. It sped gracefully through the skeletal wooden remains, only narrowly missing several jagged and protruding splinters. I could do nothing but clutch the beast for dear life. We were traveling at such a fast rate that the pressure of the water as it washed over me made it impossible to even keep my eyes open and my head aloft. The Leviathan's jerky movements only added to this problem, causing me to grow dizzy and disoriented.

Suddenly, we stopped short. I slowly opened my eyes to see that we had entered some sort of cavern. The monster lifted its head from the water and brought us to the stony shore; Jack, Jocard, and Barbossa emerged looking understandably frazzled. In fact, they all wore identical grimaces and a layer of what appeared to be rank saliva.

"Don't worry, that was the worst of it," Jocard informed his comrades as they stepped onto the shore.

"What about the way back?" Barbossa countered dryly.

"Ah, yes, you are indeed correct," the other responded with a pained smile.

I surfaced from the water, but soon realized something more than slightly distressing – I was entirely disrobed. A deep blush lit up my cheeks as I attempted to cover myself with my hair. Barbossa and Jocard watched the proceeding with unbridled appreciation, while Jack seemed just as disconcerted as I was. Hastily, he removed his frock.

"Nothing to see here," he snapped at his brethren as he tossed it to me; I put it on as swiftly as possible and secured the buttons. I had never actually seen it buttoned before – I imagined it looked quite strange, especially since it was much too large and the hem nearly hit my ankles.

Suddenly, Jocard's expression darkened in realization. "You have named her," he stated.

Jack's eyes darted around shiftily. "Er – aye?"

"This will not do…" he muttered gravely. "You must release her. We have no further use for her."

Was this indeed true? I looked at Jack expectantly, for I had no idea how he would react.

"You sure about that, mate?"

"Yes, my friend."

"Just do it, Jack," Barbossa ordered. "That is, if ye think ye can – might be hard to part with such an exquisite creature…"

"I release you," Jack spit out abruptly.

For a moment, I felt as if I might faint. I wondered if he truly wanted to do it, or if he was just trying to appear strong in front of the others. I supposed it didn't matter.

Something inside me snapped. It was as though a fog had been lifted, as though a cord restricting my heartstrings had suddenly been cut. I felt so… cold. I looked at Jack and tried desperately to remember how much I had loved him. I couldn't. I couldn't fathom the idea of loving someone as much as I knew I'd loved him.

From the looks of things, he felt the same.

But I wasn't indifferent to him, not completely. Before he'd even cast the spell, there had been a kernel of affection for him growing inside my heart. I had denied it. I had shunned it. But that did not discredit its existence. And now, it was obvious that what I'd felt before had been only a fraction of what anyone was capable of feeling – of what _I_ was capable of feeling.

"That was… odd," Jack spoke finally.

Barbossa and Jocard looked almost relieved. "Good ta have ye back, Jack," the former said, clapping him on the shoulder in a manner that was just short of affectionate.

"Now, we must press on," Jocard informed us.

"Me as well?" I questioned meekly. I still felt a bit woozy and I certainly didn't want to be left alone, especially since I didn't know the way out.

"Aye, I suppose," Barbossa allowed.

I stepped out of the shallow pool and stood beside Jack. I may not have been in love with him, but I still trusted him far more than the others.

Soon, we started walking into a pitch-black cave. "You're sure this is the way?" I stammered as I heard something crunch beneath my bare feet.

"Yes," Jocard answered bluntly. "Not to worry, this passage is short."

At this, I released a breath that I didn't know I'd been holding in. The tunnel was spooky, to say the very least. I could see nothing, but I would occasionally touch the cave's walls by accident; my palms were met with a damp, slimy substance that had a consistency unlike anything I had touched before. I resisted the urge to gag and stayed closely beside Jack, or at least the figure that I thought was Jack. Whoever it was smelled strongly of rum.

When we reached the end of the tunnel, I saw that my instincts had been correct; I was indeed virtually latched onto none other than Captain Jack Sparrow.

I then turned my attention to the scene before us. We were met with a gate. An _enormous_ gate. Just before it were two mottled Corinthian columns which appeared to have once been made out of stone, but were now covered in barnacles and algae. The gates themselves were fashioned in rusted metal, with two large sculptures of sitting lions on either side.

A single man stood at the entrance; he was dark-skinned, with pulled-back dreadlocks, one of which was bleached blonde. He had a tribal pattern carved into the skin around his right temple and stood at at least six feet tall. His clothing consisted of only the lower half of a toga, revealing a scarred, tattooed, and muscular torso. He held a bronze shield with a depiction of a bull on his forearm and a long, what appeared to be bone spear in his hand.

"Who are you?" he boomed as we came into the low, bluish light.

I tilted my head upwards in astonishment. We were beneath a giant, glass dome. Above us swam schools of fish and the occasional shark. Sunlight from the surface of the water trickled down and illuminated the lost world; the word incredible did not even begin to describe the sight. Beyond the gates lay the city itself, which was built with the same material of the Corinthian columns and had suffered the same sort of erosion.

"Hello, friend," Jocard began solemnly, "We mean you no harm. We have a peaceful order of business with your chief."

The other man narrowed his eyes. "You look familiar," he stated suspiciously.

"Yes, I have visited your city before."

"Then you may enter," he said finally, "But you must leave your weapons at the gates. Know that your are responsible for the conduct of your companions."

Without hesitation, the three pirates began unsheathing their cutlasses and discarding their pistols. Then, they stepped before the guard. However, it was not going to be so simple – he patted them up and down to ensure that they hadn't concealed anything from him. Once fully satisfied, he moved on to me. It must have been obvious that I was nude beneath Jack's coat, because he sent me a bawdy grin when he was finished. Jack cleared his throat loudly and cocked an eyebrow in response to this, and the man begrudgingly pulled a lever behind one of the lion statues; the metal gates creaked open, revealing a rather sparsely populated marketplace.

The townspeople abruptly ceased all activity once we entered the city. It was understandable, I supposed, for I couldn't imagine they ever encountered many outsiders.

What struck me most was that Atlantis was not a glorious place; instead, it seemed almost like a city in decline – a place that had been ravaged by time.

The people were a vast range of different ethnicities, while they all shared a similar style of dress. I noticed that many were tattooed or had altered their bodies in some way, like the guard. Both the men and the women looked equally rugged and many of them eyed me like I was some sort of prize. It was exceedingly unnerving, so again, I kept close to Jack. He seemed to notice this, too, and slung his arm around me. At first this appeared to be an act of protection, but I soon realized that it was instead one of possession, as he was eyeing the passersby like "the cat who got the cream," as the two-footers sometimes say.

I realized quite suddenly that I had applied an unusual term to humans. I hadn't thought that way since… Well, since I left Whitecap Bay. It was disquieting. When the spell was broken, had I reverted further back to my mermaid ways?

These thoughts fled my mind as soon as we arrived at what appeared to be the chief's palace. It was more of a temple than a palace, and most of what was inside was visible from where we stood, including the throne. In fact, the two largest columns framed a cracked marble pathway to the large chair. I had expected it to be made of gold or something similarly valuable, but it instead appeared to consist of carved bone.

The chief himself was a man just as large as the one guarding the gates. However, unlike his kinsman, his skin was a sickly grayish color, possibly the result of a lack of exposure to the sun. He was certainly not young, but I could not, for the life of me, venture a guess to his age, for his hair and goatee were an indeterminate mousy color. His face was heavily lined, but I did not know if this was a product of age or stress. He wore a simple leather band around his head, which appeared to be his substitute for a crown, and a scrimshaw necklace made from whale's teeth. He held a golden trident, which looked as old as the city itself.

As soon as we entered the palace, he banged the end of said trident against the marble floor and the whole of Atlantis seemed to shake. Jocard fell into a deep bow before the chief; Barbossa swiftly followed his lead and stomped on Jack's foot with his peg leg to prompt him to do the same.

"Who are you and why have you come?" the chief's raspy voice thundered.

Barbossa and Jack looked at Jocard expectantly, willing him to speak on their behalf. "We are in need of a favor, your grace," he said finally.

"What sort of favor?" he demanded guardedly.

"You see, the former king of Atlantis, the one who Blackbeard abducted many moons ago, he has cursed us."

"There is and only will ever be one king of Atlantis," the chief said sagaciously, "I am all that came before me and all that shall come after. We are the true king, Poseidon. What you see before you is merely a vessel."

"Yes, of course," Jocard quickly amended, "How foolish of me, my king. But the 'vessel' that you once inhabited – he has cursed us."

"In what manner?"

"Blackbeard abused the man's power to bewitch his ship and his crew," he stated gravely.

The chief stroked his scraggly beard in contemplation. "And what is it you need from me?"

"Our ships have been reduced to – to miniature versions of what they once were."

The chief seemed impressed. "That is strong black magic," he said.

"Indeed, my grace. And no doubt you know the only remedy for such magic…?"

"Indeed, I do," he confirmed. "But tell me, mortals, what leads you to believe that I will help you? From the sound of things, your comrades have already betrayed my people." He his eyes wandered over all of us, but they lingered a bit too long on me.

This did not escape Jocard's notice. "Ah, we have brought an offering of good faith, of course," he said, motioning to me.

Oh dear. I didn't like where this was going. I turned to Jack in panic; he looked equally surprised at first, but recovered quickly.

"She _would_ make a lovely queen, wouldn't she…" the chief thought aloud.

Wait. What? Queen?

"I'm not sure I follow what's going on," I sputtered, desperation invading my voice.

Barbossa wore a ghost of a smirk, while Jocard's expression was customarily unreadable.

"You are to become my queen, mermaid," the chief answered derogatorily.

I blinked several times in a vain attempt to process what was going on. Was I about to be traded for a ship _again_? Was I going to be forced to marry this wretched, hideous man, only to be trapped in this god-forsaken ruin of a once-great city until the end of my days?

"Surely a man as handsome as yourself," I started hurriedly, "Surely a man as handsome yourself already has a queen?" My tone was sincere enough, but I don't think I managed to come across as convincing.

"I have several, but none like _you_. You shall be a wonderful addition…" he replied as he picked at his repulsive fingernails.

"Wait just a moment," Jack cut in tentatively, speaking for the first time, "I was not aware that this was – er – _part of the bargain_, as it were."

The chief donned an expression of severe boredom, but Barbossa quickly sneered, "Aren't ye glad we had ye release her, Jack?"

"Yes," Jocard concurred, "Now you are free to pursue your _true_ love, the _Pearl_."

"So, what'll it be, Jack?" questioned Barbossa. "Now's not the time to go all gooey."

"Well, bugger," was his sole response.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Oh dearie me, Jack has a big decision to make... Please review, I'd love to hear your thoughts! And as always, thanks for reading :)**


	28. Chapter 28

**A/N: Thank you so, so much to all of you who have reviewed! Reviews = faster updates. I hope you all like this chapter :)**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter XXVIII<strong>

I locked eyes with Jack and frantically searched his expression for some trace of emotion. Was I really nothing to him? After all this, could he really betray me in such a harsh way? Was my freedom worth less than an inanimate object?

But the spell had been broken. I really _was_ nothing. Not quite a human, not quite a mermaid; at least not anymore. I had no place _anywhere_, let alone with him. I was a lost soul, a creature that had been rejected from both the ordinary and supernatural worlds. I was too mermaid to be human, and too human to be mermaid.

And the _Pearl_ had always owned Jack's heart. It may have only been a ship to me, but it obviously held a deeper meaning for him. For a brief moment, I contemplated going willingly; perhaps I really ought to sacrifice myself for the others. It wasn't as if I was going to die – no, I was to become a _queen_.

But a queen of _what_? Atlantis was fading, and its chief was a man possessed by a god. And if I'd learned anything about gods, it was that they were treacherously fickle.

I did not want to stay here.

And I did… I did feel _something_ for Jack. I don't know quite what it was. If he chose the ship without so much as giving me a thought, I _would _be hurt. There was no use denying it any longer, he did hold a sort of power over me, a power that was completely discrete from anything having to do with magic. Perhaps it was time I embraced this reality rather than shunned it.

"_Well_?" Barbossa drawled impatiently, bringing me back to the present.

Jack studied me carefully, but I kept my expression devoid of any sort of anxiety. To remain wholly detached and collected during a time of adversity was a mermaid's greatest talent. I would not let him know the sway he held over my emotions, for I did want not to give him either the burden or the satisfaction (for I do not know which he would consider it).

He opened his mouth to speak, but faltered and seemed to abruptly change his mind. "I – er – Cassie, I'm sorry to say, but I think I'm going to have to go with me _colleagues_ on this one…" At first I felt crushed, but soon noticed an all-too-familiar mischievous glint in his dark brown eyes. I'd missed it before, with Cecily, but I would not miss it again. Jack had a knack for getting exactly what he wanted out of any situation, even if he had to play the trickster to do so. He hadn't truly abandoned me with Cecily, and he wouldn't truly abandon me now.

I could tell that Barbossa also noticed something was awry, which wasn't unexpected given the fact that he knew Jack quite well. But he didn't say anything. I suspected he was more concerned with simply getting what he came for than Jack's shenanigans, and I'm quite sure that, once he obtained a vial of the chief's blood, he would cease to care about what fate befell me.

"So we have an accord, then," the chief said gruffly.

"Aye," Jack stated. He folded his hands into a praying motion and turned his entire body towards me, before bowing his head apologetically. "I really am sorry, love." The unanticipated sincerity in his voice rattled me; perhaps I had been wrong – perhaps he really _didn't_ have a plan, in which case I was in deep, deep trouble.

I grasped his hands earnestly and said, "Please, Jack, don't do this. After everything that's happened between us – "

He scowled dramatically and my fears were put to rest. He wrenched his hands out of mine and spat, "Love, I understand your sentiments, I really do, but – there's really no easy way to put this – I do not reciprocate them. I truly don't blame you for feeling this way. We had a good bit of fun, I'll admit, but that was all it was. Don't fool yourself into thinking that I actually _cared _for you."

I stood rigid, playing along. "But Jack," I whimpered, "It was more than just that…"

"I was under your spell, you she-devil," he exclaimed grandiosely, "How else do you think I could even begin to feel anything for such a monster?"

"You fancy the pirate?" the chief grunted, displeased.

"Nay, she does not," Barbossa answered hurriedly, "A harpy such as she cannot experience such a sentiment. This is but a ploy to aid in her escape." He roughly grabbed my upper arm and shoved me towards the chief's throne. "Take 'er," he said, "I'm sure ye'll think of a good way to get the fight out of 'er – she'll be docile as a lamb in no time. Now, your end o' the deal?"

The chief eyed me warily, but seemed convinced by Barbossa's testimony. He took his trident and pricked the tip of his left index finger, before waiting edgily for the three pirates to approach him. "Well?" he demanded.

Quickly, Jack stepped forward, vial in hand. We made eye contact as several drops of crimson fell into the glass, and I saw a glimmer of worry dance in his barely-distinguishable irises. _Maybe he really doesn't have a plan_.

Next came Barbossa, and finally Jocard.

"Thank you, your grace," said the latter, "We are humbled by your consideration. May many years of happiness rain down upon you and your new bride." It was plain to see that he wanted to leave Atlantis as swiftly as possible.

"You may go," the chief ordered dismissively.

And, without so much as another word, they did. They just… left. Jack didn't even spare me a glace as he and his companions travled back towards the entrance gates. I felt as if I'd been punched in the gut. Finally, my indifferent façade wavered and I gasped for breath. I was utterly forsaken. Alone, with this horrid man, in this loathsome kingdom.

The chief roughly gripped my face and turned it towards him, smearing blood on my cheek. "Stop your blubbering, wench," he commanded. "You are ever so lovely, my pet, and I can hardly wait to make you my wife." I nearly retched at the very thought. Infuriated by my obvious disgust, the chief raised the back of his hand. I stood firm, awaiting the blow; my coldness had been restored, and I betrayed no fear – only pure hatred.

Before he struck me, however, Jack's voice rang out through the temple. While we'd been distracted, he had returned without Barbossa or Jocard.

"You know," he began amiably as he walked through the columns, "I'm starting to rethink my decision…"

I was so moved by the sight of the eccentric captain that I actually felt _tears_ prick the backs of my eyes.

Immediately, the chief realized that he was about to be played for a fool.

"What is the meaning of this?" he demanded in rage. He pointed his trident at Jack, who looked a little unsure of his next move. _Time to improvise,_ I decided. I wiped the tear from the corner of my eye and blew it into the chief's face; it burned him like acid. As he howled in surprise and fury, I was able to wrestle the trident out of his hand. The floor beneath us began to tremor.

"That can't be good," Jack muttered, eyes wide.

I started to dash away, but the chief yanked me back by my hair. I hissed in pain and, above all, anger. Without hesitation, I drove the trident into his chest. Immediately, his expression became slack and he began to cough up thick, dark blood. After only a matter of moments, he collapsed on the steps to his now-bloodstained throne.

The dome above us began to crack like ice.

"That is very, _very_ not good!" Jack stated in panic. He grabbed my wrist. "Just leave it!" he yelled as I tried to dig the trident out from the chief's corpse.

As we ran towards the gates, the whole city seemed to collapse around us. It was utter chaos. The townspeople shrieked and scrambled about like frightened rats, too preoccupied to even notice that we'd murdered their chief.

Suddenly, water began pouring through the cracks in the dome, crushing everything around us in violent streams. Anyone unlucky enough to be hit with one of the rivulets was killed instantly from the sheer pressure. The danger was not drowning, but being squashed.

"Where are the others?" I yelled over the madness.

"Gone," he answered, "The Leviathan took them back to the surface."

"Then how are we going to escape?" I demanded, nearing hysterics.

By this time, we had finally made it to the tunnel. However, a torrent of water started gushing in, propelling us to the small, rocky shore in rather unpleasant manner. I landed hard on the stones, scraping my knees and the palms of my hands; Jack experienced the same effect.

Water was flowing into the cavern at an alarming speed, but we were momentarily removed from any immediate peril.

"You came back for me," I stated in wonder as I tried to catch my breath.

"You're surprised?"

"I thought you'd left."

"I never was good at compromising," he mused aloud.

I parted my lips to speak, but no words came out; I didn't know what to say.

"If you mean to thank me, you're welcome – but now's not really the time, savvy?"

"Right. What do we do?"

"You – you're the key. Time to make yourself useful, love. Chop chop!" He clapped, before gesturing to the water.

"But – I don't know that way out," I protested, "It's like a maze out there, you didn't see it because you were inside –"

"It's not as if we have any other choice," he interrupted frenziedly, "I have faith in you, dearie, now let's get going!"

With an anxious sigh, I stepped into the water. When my tail formed, I gave Jack his coat back as he waded beside me. My stormy green eyes bore desperately into his; I would be fine, but he… he could run out of air.

"I know," he acknowledged softly, indicating that I didn't need to warn him. "But at least I got what I came for, ey?" He gave me a lopsided grin, but I wasn't able to match it.

I gripped his biceps and urged, "Here goes nothing – Take a deep breath."

He did, and soon I dragged him beneath the water, moving as quickly as I could.

Mermaids were impressively fast swimmers – that much was true. But it was difficult to utilize this talent when you didn't know where you were going. Once my head was underwater, I could clearly see where we'd entered. I darted swiftly through what I thought was a short channel, hauling Jack by the fabric of the arms of his frock.

The problem was, it _wasn't _a short channel. It was network of tunnels, with various forks and twists. I didn't know which way to go, and time was slipping away. I came to a particularly vague looking fork in the path and had trouble deciding which way to swim; Jack started madly pointing to one of the sides, so I obeyed him. I glanced down and was relieved to see that he was using his compass.

Eventually, we reached the graveyard of sunken ships. From this point, things were fairly straightforward: just swim up. But the labyrinth of various ruins complicated things. I wove around the wreckage until I could finally see the surface.

However, I soon noticed that Jack's compass was limp in his hand. Fearfully, I turned his body so I could see his face.

His eyes were closed. He seemed not to be conscious, so I shook him.

Nothing.

In all the commotion, I must not have seen him run out of air.

I started to panic and I could feel my heartbeat escalate. _No, no, no, this can't be happening!_ Jack couldn't die. He just couldn't. Not like this, not after everything he'd already survived. It wasn't fair. We were so close..._  
><em>

I abruptly realized something: I could save him. The Mermaid's Kiss.

Without a second thought, I covered his mouth with my own and breathed air into his lungs, all the while dragging him upwards.

When we finally reached the glorious surface, Jack began coughing vehemently and spitting up seawater.

"Are you all right?" I demanded, sounding disturbingly maternal.

"Just peachy," he rasped with a grimace.

I silently thanked the gods, but was startled by how strongly I was being affected. I just wanted to…

Before I could think any further, I smashed my lips to his. This was not the Mermaid's Kiss. No, this was most definitely a human kiss.

Albeit surprised, he reciprocated enthusiastically.

After several moments, we pulled apart.

"As much as I appreciate your concern, love," he started cheekily, "I think we have other things to worry about at the moment." He was looking past me, and I spun around to see what he meant.

I was faced with the sight of far more ships than we'd arrived with, and one of them was named the _Meermin._

* * *

><p><strong>AN: So, we're nearing the end... This is very sad for me, especially since I've had so much fun writing this story - and I mean SO much fun. I can't even describe it. I hope you've all enjoyed it so far, and I obviously would like to thank all of you for reading. Please review! I know we can make it to 200 before the end!**_  
><em>


End file.
